


Narnia: The Golden Age

by grecianviolet



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-16
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-05 11:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grecianviolet/pseuds/grecianviolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of connected vignettes that detail the Golden Age of Narnian history, during which Kings Peter and Edmund and Queens Susan and Lucy learn to govern, protect, and love their realm, even by learning how to leave it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lucy's Adventure

I grew up loving the Chronicles of Narnia.  After the movies came out, I was inspired by the beautiful visuals--and the great casting of the actors--to create a tribute for them.  Because there are not enough stories addressing the rulers of Narnia's fabled Golden Age, and I want to change that.

~*~

Sunshine streamed into Lucy's—one should rather say _Queen_ Lucy's—room, and that was all it took. Even on the high side of seven, Lucy was not too old to sleep much past dawn, and the fact that she had missed the earlier part of sunrise was only due to the rather late night she had spent the evening before. But the dancing of the fauns and satyrs had been simply too enchanting…and though she had done her fair share with the rest, she was not in the least tired now! In fact…

Too much of the morning had been wasted already! Lucy sprang out of bed, marveling at the softness of her silk woven rug, and dashed to her wardrobe. Rather teasingly, she tapped at the back of it first, just to make sure that it wouldn't carry her either to a different world entirely or back home. Though she didn't know it, that fleeting thought that she had had about her home was the last she was to have for a long while.

Thankfully, even though the clothes she had been provided with here were a far cry from anything she was used to, the cambric underthings were easy to wiggle in to, and the dresses, even the ones for every day use, were beautiful and comfortable. She took out a robe of deep red, and put it on, twirling once or twice to admire the effect of the red color against the white marble of her floor.

Lucy stopped only to dash some water on her face, run a comb through her hair, and strap her little bottle and dagger about her waist. Her gifts from Father Christmas were too precious to abandon at any time, even though she didn't expect to use them soon. But if there was anything that Narnia did, it was keep one on one's toes!

Lucy would have run out of her room immediately were it not for the slight glimmer of the silver and blue flowers of her crown catching her in the corner of one eye. She approached it rather reverently, where it lay in great state on a silver satin pillow near her bed, and lifted it onto her head. She caught one glimpse of herself in the mirror, and sighed. It was all so strange! Perhaps as little as three days before, and she had only been reading and imagining herself to be a great Queen!

Well, either way, there was too much to do today! And if she knew them well enough, Peter, Edmund, and Susan would definitely not be awake yet. Well, then that was the first thing to take care of.

The castle of Cair Paravel was certainly large, but Lucy had been shown all over it yesterday, before the coronation, by Aslan himself, and, even though it gave her a pang to think of Him, she still remembered exactly where everything was. That included the rooms of her brothers and sister. They each resided in a different wing in the castle, one to each of the cardinal directions.

To reach each of the rooms, Lucy thought it would be easiest to cross through the great hall where the feasting and revelry had gone on last night. When she reached the hallway leading to it, though, she heard the voices of her siblings coming from the hall. Amazing that they should have gotten up before her!

When she went into the Great Hall, she found them all about to sit down to breakfast. They all looked very awake, and each of them seemed much softened after all the trouble in the past few days.

"Thought we'd never steal a march on you, eh Lucy?" Edmund asked her, his mouth full of toast. As he spoke, a few crumbs sprayed from his mouth, and while Susan sighed, Lucy couldn't help but giggle.

"Ed, Kings don't spray crumbs when they eat," Susan began, sounding very much older than she was, "In fact, they don't…"

"Eat at all?" Edmund interrupted, his mouth mercifully toast-free.

Susan scoffed at him, and popped a grape in her mouth, obviously not going to bother with explaining what she really meant. Lucy and Peter exchanged a look and a giggle, and Lucy sat down to breakfast.

"We have a lot to do today, Lu," Peter said, clearing away the remains of his poached egg. "The centaurs have already been to see me, and apparently, even though we did some good work on that nasty lot a few days ago, there's still a lot to do."

Lucy swallowed a very nice piece of toast. "What do you mean?"

"What he means, Lu," Susan began, gently, "is that we didn't get rid of all those evil…things, and they're only going to do bad things to our country, until we get rid of them all."

"W-Will we have to go to war again?" Lucy asked, looking to her big brother.

"No, Lu," Peter said, "but we're going to have to ride out, maybe again and again, until we find them all. We can't let them stay where they are. We have a responsibility to Narnia now, and it might take a very long time."

"Which means it's going to be a long time before we can go home again." Susan continued, laying her hand over Lucy's.

"Why are you still on about that?" Edmund asked, digging his knife rather too hard into the butter. "You can't honestly still be thinking about going home? Come _on_ , Sue! No time passes in our world, so far as we know, no matter how long we've been gone. And we can do some good here."

"And I suppose—" Susan began, obviously showing signs of becoming very angry, before she swallowed her remark. "Peter," she began again, trying a different tack, "you don't honestly think we should stay here longer than we need to, do you? I mean…" she trailed off.

"Either way," Lucy began, hoping to turn the conversation, "if we need to do any more fighting, won't that mean that we need a good deal more practice? I mean," she continued, a little sheepishly, "I think we were all rather lucky last time."

Susan scoffed, and Lucy realized that this might have been more likely to upset her than make her any more agreeable to doing any more fighting.

They finished breakfast in near silence. Only, "pass the jam," or "could I have another piece of toast?" disturbed the quiet.

"You two," Peter said, when they approached the end to their unending breakfast, "are going to work with the centaurs today. Lucy, they want to start you learning the bow."

"Isn't she rather small for that? I mean, will they have a bow small enough for her?" Edmund said, feeling his years over Lucy in the soreness of his sword arm.

"Apparently," Peter said. "You and I, Ed," he continued, "will work with the fauns. We can fight a little bit from horseback, but we were essentially useless on foot. And they know swordplay the best, I understand."

"Ripping!" Edmund exclaimed, not checked in the least by the worry that Susan exhibited.

"Oh, Peter!" Lucy cried, jumping up from the table, "when can I learn to fight with a sword? It looks like so much fun, oh Peter, _can_ I come with you today?"

"It's 'may I' Lu, and most certainly you may not!" Susan rejoined, in Peter's place. "Archery is one thing, but sword fighting is something entirely different!"

"Besides, Lu," Peter said, chuckling awkwardly, "you're still too small to hold a sword. And archery is better for you anyway. Better learn to fight from a distance before you get really close up. Remember what Father Christmas said, 'battles are ugly affairs'."

"Oh, all right," Lucy said. Practicing archery was just as interesting as swordplay, and someone needed to make up for Susan's sub-par performance, after all!

Susan sighed again, and took her quiver and bow from where they lay against her chair, and took Lucy by the hand. "Where are we to meet these…centaurs?"

"They told me there were practice fields in the fields to the west of the castle, at the foot of the mountains, near the bay."

"Right," Susan said, fastening her ivory quiver and hanging her small, lion-headed horn. Suddenly, she smiled, trying to overcome her crabby attitude. "Oh, I wish I hadn't had so much breakfast," she said, smiling at Lucy, "I feel like I'm twice as big!"

"Well, you're certainly full of hot air this morning," Edmund said, quietly. Peter cuffed him on the shoulder, but Susan didn't seem to notice.

Narnia was a beautiful country. It was even more apparent during the beautiful summer that had come to it. The trees laughed and danced with each other, and were so merry that Lucy could hardly keep still when the centaurs were teaching them the proper way to hold a bow and draw the arrow. Susan seemed to have a natural talent for archery, even though the centaurs made her shoot with a wooden practice bow before she was allowed to use her present. Lucy missed the target again and again before she finally hit the mark. However, the centaurs were nothing but encouraging, and they told her that it took them years of practice to become proficient.

Lunch came around, and Lucy and Susan rejoined the boys, who looked very happy and very windblown. They brought Mr. Tumnus and a few of the other fauns with them. Mr. Tumnus told Lucy, very quietly before they all sat down, that he wanted to make his father proud. When his father had gone to war, Tumnus had been too young to go with him, but he wanted to help in the future of Narnia. Lucy was glad to know that there was someone who knew as little about fighting as she did. Her brothers were already very busy talking about slashes, and pommels, and she didn't know what else. Even Susan seemed a little more interested than usual, and she was talking with one of the centaurs (who was not staying for lunch) about how to judge distance and wind direction for a shot.

Lucy and Mr. Tumnus chatted together for most of lunch, since everybody else seemed occupied, and he invited her, with the greatest courtesy, to come to tea on one of the days of the weekend. Lucy thought it was strange that he would ask her with so much ceremony, but he reminded her that she _was_ a Queen now. Lucy had to think about that. Certainly she would not ask her own Queen for tea on the weekends so casually!

It was so strange to think of Britain now. Susan might think of nothing but going home, but even after the disappointment of archery that morning, Lucy was still full of wild excitement over what their future as Kings and Queens of Narnia would hold.

Lunch was soon over, and Peter came forward with a plan to ride out a little, that afternoon, to see the layout of their country. Everything was so different with the snow melted, and they needed to understand where the settlements of their people lay. There were towns in Narnia, though they had not seen any of them before. Lucy and even Susan thought it was a good plan, so after lunch, their horses were saddled and brought to them. The Unicorn that Peter had ridden into battle had been healed by Lucy's fireflower juice, and Edmund still chose to ride Philip, and Lucy was set riding double with Susan, but not on a talking horse. Lucy was very glad to feel Susan's arms around her, because her feet didn't reach the stirrups and it was a long way to the ground!

On the back of their horses, the Narnian ground seemed to fly along beneath them. Lucy laughed delightedly as they passed beautiful forest glad after lovely little river and creek. There seemed to be no end to the beauties of the country they now found themselves Kings and Queens of. She glanced back at Susan, who seemed at last to have lost some of her anxiety and had begun to enjoy herself freely.

Riding a horse was not like riding on Aslan's back; it was significantly bouncier, and Lucy knew she was going to be sore, because the saddle kept bouncing against her, and she hurt a bit already. But actually being out and about was wonderful! They kept passing little groups of animals, or fauns, or dwarves, here and there, and they stopped, met them, and went on. One very delightful little rabbit had given her a very sniffly kiss on the hand before letting them go, and the little voice, saying, "Long live Queen Lucy!" still rang in her mind.

Peter laughed over to her, and urged his mount on. He disliked riding with a saddle, and Lucy didn't understand why she couldn't ride with him. She would suggest it when next they dismounted. Susan called after him to be careful, but he didn't hear her, and suddenly, he had disappeared. Susan screamed, and the rest of the party drew reign, not wanting to encounter the same problem as King Peter.

Lucy was down from her horse in a minute, and dashing over to where Peter had last been when the ground gave way under her feet too.

The gorge had been frozen during the long winter, but the wearing of the ice into the soil had made all the ground around the water very loose. Peter, whose mount was a very sensible creature indeed, had not lost his seat, and could grab Lucy before she fell into the roiling, icy water.

"Well!" he said, looking into her grimy face, "We've had an adventure, I say, Lu!"

She giggled. "Your face is filthy…all smudged with mud!"

"Oh yeah," he countered, running his handkerchief over her cheek and brandishing it in her eyes, "look what came off of you, little Miss!"

Lucy tried to tickle him, but when the ground underneath them shifted again, Peter warned her to be still. By this time, they could hear the voices of the people above them, and Peter called up to say they were all right. Lucy looked about them. They were on a very small outcropping of land, before the bank dropped away sharply again, even more sharply than they had fallen in, and the water beneath was gray and foaming.

Susan's voice called sharply from above, saying that they were going to lower a rope. Lucy felt a tiny moment of panic. She had never been good at rope climbing in school, and she knew that Peter was not strong enough to climb with her on his back. Peter sensed her worry and said, "Don't worry, Lu, I'll tie you to the rope, and they'll haul you up first. I'm not leaving Tristan, anyway."

The Unicorn, however, spoke for himself. "I would say, rather, your Majesty, that I am not going to leave you. I can make my way up alone. You and Queen Lucy get up, and never mind about me."

"Are you sure?" Peter asked.

"Yes, your Majesty. Now get up," he said, when the rope was lowered, "I can feel the ground getting shaky."

Everything began to move very quickly. Peter tied Lucy to the rope, and the swirling, gray-white waters started to shrink below her, as well as Peter's face. She clung to the thick cord with all her might, for she had always been just a little afraid of anyplace too high. But Susan's hands were soon firmly on her. Next, while they untied her, Tristan, the Unicorn, scrambled his way—if a Unicorn can be said to scramble—up. Peter was waiting for the rope when the bank gave way entirely, and he was flung into the rush.

Susan screamed after him, and the centaurs pounded away downstream with Edmund. Lucy ran with the fauns, as fast as her feet would follow her, until she was lifted into the saddle again with Susan. The woods around the rush were very thick, and it was hard work getting through them and down the very steep embankment. Branches tore at their clothes and hair, and they were all the time a little bit afraid that they might be too late to pull Peter from the crushing stones at the bottom of the stream. Lucy's heart was pounding so hard that she was afraid it would break some of her ribs.

Between the constant clopping of their horse's hooves and the murmured cries of the other people around them, it was just discernable; the noises of a battle. The centaurs heard it first, and galloped off, with Edmund in their midst. Lucy urged the horse on as quickly as she could, and Susan was, for once, scarcely less eager to see what was happening.

They finally cleared the trees, and could make out Peter, looking very bedraggled and tired, fighting with at least three enemies; one was clearly a black dwarf, and the other two were trolls. Lucy jumped down from the horse, ignoring Susan's cries, and felt for the small bow and quiver that the centaurs had given her that morning. Her fingers, already slippery with mud, fumbled awkwardly with the bowstring, and when she'd got it strung, Peter was down to two enemies…but already he looked very tired. Edmund and the centaurs had started to ford the river, with a few of the faster fauns, but that black dwarf was pressing him hard, and the ground around the river was full of stones and mud…perfect for tripping on. If Peter went down, it was over.

Finally, she had an arrow nocked into the string, and she pulled back, nearly to her ear, as the centaurs had told her. Her eyes followed the target, and she released. Nearly a yard too far to the right, but it wasn't all bad. She'd struck the troll, who was hanging back for the dwarf to do all the work, in the festering arm. The terrible thing bellowed in agony, but a swift sound above Lucy's head filled her with hope, and suddenly, the dwarf lay dead, with Susan's red arrow in his heart. The troll, finding himself alone, tried to make a run to the forest, but the centaurs and Edmund had got across the river by now, and between them, they made short work of the blackguard.

Lucy, too impatient to get astride again, simply ran down the incline and forded the river by herself, though the current was strong, the water was fairly shallow. She found the centaurs and Edmund in the middle of their congratulations of the courage of the High King, and Lucy threw herself into Peter's arms.

Peter, she saw, was nearly ready to sink down, but he was a King now, and he refused to seem more tired than was necessary. Eventually, the whole party collected, and Susan, without a word of reproach, just gathered her brother into her arms, and suggested that they call it a day. Which was a suggestion very much agreed with.

Peter rode home slowly…though he was not wounded, it takes some attention to ride bareback, even though Tristan was a very careful steed, but Peter was very tired. Edmund, who had been the biggest agent in taking down the last troll, was trying very hard not to seem overly pleased with himself during the praise the centaurs heaped on him. Even Susan and Lucy were praised, though Susan more so, for her archery was much superior.

But Susan rode quietly, Lucy noticed, and seemed rather low. Lucy nudged her twice, to get her attention, but Susan just said, "Not now, dear. When we get back to Cair Paravel, I'll tell you."

It seemed funny that Susan didn't say 'home.' Already, Cair Paravel was seeming like the only home that Lucy had ever known.

"I just can't…play pretend like you three can," Susan confessed, handing Lucy a cup of hot chocolate in the privacy of her bedroom. It was large, and faced the beautiful ocean, where the mermaids had just begun their nightly serenade. "To me, all this seems like…a vacation, with reality, and schools, and teachers hiding round the corners. I just can't make it seem…real." She took a deep sip of her hot chocolate. "And I miss home."

Lucy didn't understand. "But…we can always go home. The way will always be open for us, and the people of Narnia need us now. We're Kings and Queens, after all!"

"But why are we Kings and Queens, Lucy?" Susan cried, "We were just ordinary children."

"I—I don't know. But we certainly are now, so it doesn't seem to matter so much, 'why'."

Susan shook her head. "It's late, Lu. You'd best get off to bed. I expect we'll do the same thing tomorrow, and the way you shoot, you'll be lucky if the centaurs don't get you out of bed at dawn."

Lucy giggled. "I wouldn't mind that. Narnia is too pretty to miss one moment of it, anyway."

Susan only smiled, "Good night, Lucy."

"Good night, Lucy!"

"Good night Ed!"

"Night, Lu!"

"Good night, King Peter."

There was a squeal as her older brother tickled her into submission, before sending her off to bed.

Her room was just as beautiful as it had been that morning, and, luckily, there was no washing up just before bed. One of her handmaidens—she had those now—had taken her firmly in hand when she'd come into the castle, all slimed with mud and shivering, and now all she had to do was take off her robe and snuggle beneath the covers.

Lucy listened to the mermaids as they sang her to sleep. This had been her first day as a Queen of Narnia.


	2. Susan Comes Home

King Edmund's eleventh birthday was an event celebrated throughout the whole kingdom of Narnia. It also coincided with their third month inside the magical land itself, Susan reflected, as she allowed her handmaidens to help her into a beautiful gown of russet silk, that gave her newly tanned complexion a little bit of rosy color. Each and every day away from home had been a trial for her, especially considering how no one but she could feel how quickly they were forgetting things so natural to them. Lucy had hardly mentioned Mother once during the past two months, and even Peter had not mentioned their return home as a guaranteed event. Susan couldn't help but think again of the story Peter Pan.

Every time she thought of that, she wanted to run right home to Mother.

Susan sniffled, a very little bit, and dabbed the corners of her eyes with her handkerchief.

"Is there aught amiss, Your Highness?" the wood nymph, Irynia asked.

"No," Susan said quickly, "no indeed."

"Your brother has talked of nothing else but his first tournament for the past three weeks, Your Highness," the spirit continued, trying to take her Queen's mind off whatever was troubling her, "do you think he may have a chance at the trophy against his brother?"

The mere _mention_ of the tournament that Edmund was so thrilled about was enough to drive Susan into a black mood.

"I would like to be alone." She said, gesturing her two handmaidens to the door. And with furtive curtsies, they both went.

Susan glanced at herself in the mirror, marveling at how much change had come over her in a bare three months. She walked straighter, as they had taught her to, during those long lessons of deportment and carriage. Her face was more angular, and it looked so much older…she was only thirteen! But she had been watching the changes that had taken place in herself and her siblings. Peter looked almost like a man already, and he was only fifteen. Even Lucy, almost eight years old, walked and talked like someone twice her age.

And they had all fallen into this new life without reservations. Her mind, however, was still trying to tell her that this could not be real…it kept trying to wake her from the dream that she knew herself to be in.

Susan sighed. There was little enough she could do about that now, and it did no good to dwell on it. In any case, Ed's birthday _was_ certainly something to be celebrating, and she feared everyone had started before her. Hurrying out of her room, with only a pause for her quiver and bow (her horn already hung from her belt) Susan felt the sunlight from the high arching windows strike her back, and she felt a smile come over her face despite everything.

Narnia had rarely looked as beautiful as it did that day. Early summer bloomed on the country and freshened everything, with the perfect blend of weather. There were beautiful mornings spent in the archery meadows, long afternoons spent lounging by the beach in what passed for Narnian court, and there were lovely twilights spent watching summer storms chasing each other across the purple-black sky. But today, everything seemed lovelier, as if the land itself knew of the celebration in honor of its young King.

The voice of that young King echoed through the halls of the castle. Edmund certainly had reason to be excited. Diplomats and royalty from the surrounding countries of Narnia had been gathering for several days now. There were the dangerous looking people of Calormen, the hale and hearty Archenlanders, the rather weather beaten folk from the Lone Islands, not to mention the delegations from the dwarves, the animals, the centaurs, and even the mermaids were assembling in the bay in order to serenade him.

All of them had been working hard to make sure that everyone's needs would be provided for…not an easy task considering how many different peoples that had come! Susan hurried into the hall, where she was greeted with a tray of fruits and bread as her penalty for coming late to breakfast.

"Susan, where _have_ you been?" Lucy demanded, looking particularly adorable in her dress of plum-colored linen. "We were about to inspect the lists without you!"

Susan had to swallow a mouthful of peach before she could retort. "I notice, Lu, how no one was sent to call me. I need breakfast before I do anything!"

"Hurry up then, slowpoke," Peter said, pinching her elbow. "The Archenlanders and the Islanders might take all the glory before we can get there!"

"Have you ever _seen_ swords like the Calormens have?" Edmund began, launching him and his brother into another technical discussion, which, Lucy told her, rolling her eyes, had been going on all throughout breakfast.

"They've talked of nothing else," Lucy said, trying to hold in her giggles. Then, tugging at Susan's arm, she said, "Come onto the balcony…you can see the lists, and the challengers are getting in armor already!"

Susan smiled and took another bite of peach as she followed Lucy's swift footsteps towards the southern balcony.

Silken pennants in every color of the rainbow declared the combatants of the lists. Or a Scimitar Sable were the arms of Prince Rabadash, the oldest son of the ruler of Tashbaan, who was generally the favored participant. Susan had seen him the day before, and she thought of him now with a blush on her face. The dark eyed youth was older even than Peter, and quite attractive in his own right.

Lucy's unabashed favorite was one of the dukes of Archenland, Lord Dar. His colors were Purpure a chief Argent three spears Sable, and he was the favorite participant in the Archenlander party. He was extremely handsome, with dark blond hair and striking green eyes and was much older than Peter. Lucy adored the study of heraldry, and the regal meaning of that coat-of-arms was something that she loved.

Of course, Peter's arms were Argent a lion rampant Gules, the traditional arms of Narnia itself. Edmund's arms were Argent a lion rampant Gules a bordure Azure, because he was the younger son in the royal family.

All the four arms of the brothers and sisters floated just above the pavilion which overlooked the field. Lucy's arms were the same as Peter's, save that hers had a dove Purpure. Susan's had a stag Purpure.

And the heralds and the criers and the vendors were preparing for the day ahead, which promised to be one of the most busy, enthralling days of recent Narnian history. Already there were people pouring in from the villages and towns in the forest, and the hills about the tourney field were choked with bystanders. Susan felt a deep thrum of excitement that belied her anxious, weary nature of late. Lucy could hardly stand still; already she was racing back to the great hall, to urge her brothers to come _on_ and begin the competition.

Susan did not turn as her younger sister dashed off behind her, but instead folded her arms against the railing of the balcony and rested her head against the softness of her sleeves. The sun was warm on her head, and for a moment she allowed her eyes to drift closed, almost allowing the sensation of fear relax from her stomach.

Suddenly, there was a terrible screech of metal against metal, and Susan jolted awake to see that one of the challengers from Tashbaan had been broadsided by a shying horse from the Archenland party.

Cries arose from both sides of the field, as one of the Tisroc's attendants had taken out his scimitar to slay the offending beast, and the Archenlanders hurried to prevent that. Already messengers were running up from the field to inform King Peter of the discord on the field below. Susan hurried back into the great hall as the first of these messengers reached her elder brother.

Almost before the news had been delivered, Peter was calling for his horse, Edmund fast on his heels. Bloodshed, of man or beast, could not be allowed in this disorderly fashion. Lucy was told curtly, by one of her centaur attendants, to stay behind and let her brothers handle the situation, and, not for either the first or last time, she slipped the leash and went anyway. Susan called after her, but it was too late. Lucy's pony was in constant readiness, and her bow and arrows could do more than keep her safe. So it was back to the balcony for Susan, where the dispute was already being resolved. Of course, at this distance, she could hear no words, but one of Edmund's talents was negotiation and diplomacy, and she could just imagine was he was saying to soothe the ruffled feathers.

As she watched them (her sister had caught up by that point) she could hardly help herself feeling a terrible, aching sense of detachment. Her lips tightened, and her fingers gripped the slender marble railing of the balcony till her fingers turned bloodless white. She was angry, she was scared, she was sad…she was left out. _Now_ she had some inkling of what her brother Edmund must have felt when they first abandoned him in their anger.

Her lips tightened to a thin, thin line, and before anyone could stop her (not that there was anyone trying, they were all out on the tourney field) Susan had saddled her own horse, a large, gentle mare named Amaranta and galloped in the opposite direction.

The wind whipped her falling tears against her face as she maneuvered her horse through the dense growth of trees that would shield her from the enquiring gazes of her subjects. The pounding of hooves on the ground covered the sounds of her tearing sobs, which she herself almost did not hear.

Away, away, away from the castle. Further, further, further from responsibilities she did not want.

Poor Amaranta did her best to keep up with her mistress's frantic desire, but, all too soon, the powerful mare faltered and slipped on the slick stones that lined the riverbed along which they were traveling. Susan, though blinded by her fear and anger, felt the heaving sides of her mount and had pity, stopping and dismounting. The edges of her silk skirt were ruined beyond repair by the lapping waves around her ankles. This only served to infuriate her more, and for a moment, she was nothing more than a sobbing, flailing wreck as she pounded her fists into whatever she could find; a boulder, a tree trunk, her own legs.

"I want to go _home_!"

She dissolved into completely incoherent sobs, sinking down to her knees in the soggy turf by the river's edge. Her hair hung down her shoulders in a black curtain, confining her world to a closed box, populated only by the sounds of her shallow, tremulous breaths.

The day, which had been almost oppressively hot, suddenly cooled as a low cloud floated over the sun. Soothing winds picked up and blew across the back of her neck, the part exposed by her hair. Susan, feeling uncomfortably claustrophobic, pulled back her hair and stared up at the waving branches above her head. Slow tears still leaked their ways out of her eyes and trailed into the collar of her dress. Amaranta whickered softly nearby, almost as if to calm her mistress.

Susan felt a return to her tears. Soft sobs coughed out of her throat, and she hiccupped as she tried to suppress them. She got wearily to her feet and took her horse by the bridle, to lead her on to the lamppost.

"My daughter…"

The sound was so soft as to be a purr.

"My dear Susan…"

The great Lion stood before her. Amaranta tugged her head free and went to her knees in front of the King of beasts. Susan felt herself scarcely capable of doing otherwise.

"Aslan," she sighed, stretching out her arms, "Oh, Aslan, I've been so lost!"

The Lion reclined to his haunches and beckoned her forward. She rushed to his golden arms and buried her face in the glorious waterfall of his mane. Breathing deeply, she felt the tears on her face absorbed by the warmth of his fur. For minutes, for hours, she rested thus, feeling as if she could never possibly bring herself to leave the warm comfort of his strength. She knew, on her own, she would fall. So she clung to him for all she was worth, praying that he would never, ever leave her.

The rumble of his voice startled her out of her drowsy state of mind.

"Susan,"

She pulled her face away and looked him in the eyes. Those wise, kind, knowledgeable eyes, which looked upon her with such understanding. The understanding that she had been searching for from her brothers and sister.

"Susan, do you not trust me?"

The question startled her. Of course she did! She had seen him rise from the dead, why should she ever have cause to doubt him, or his power?

Oh…

"I _do_ trust you, Aslan," she whispered, trying to be as earnest as she could, "but I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing here. I'm not a Queen, I'm a schoolgirl. Mother _trusted_ me to take care of Edmund and Lucy." That last made little sense, even to her, but it took a brave stab at the great mountain of unease that had plagued her since her arrival. She knew Aslan would understand.

"I do understand you, child. But now it is time for you to understand me. Are you ready for what I have to say?"

Susan found that, unless she were looking in his eyes, her trembling fear and uncertainty were impossible to suppress. So, for one of the few times in her life, she looked only at him, and nodded.

"Susan," his voice was so soothing, "I brought you and your brothers and sister here to do my work. This Narnia is only one of my many kingdoms, in this world and in others. I need good stewards to attend my lands. I made you and your siblings for the task of leading Narnia into one of her greatest ages. I made you to be Kings and Queens. Do you think I chose poorly?"

Susan thought. Her brother Peter, sword held aloft, hailing the victory over the White Witch. Her sister, Lucy, learning so attentively the arts of both healing and combat. Her brother Edmund, once so petulant and unjust, learning to negotiate rather than fight, to use soft words rather than angry blows. She smiled, and thought of how well they had been chosen.

Her smile dimmed, though, when she thought of what she did.

"Aslan…" she began, looking once again in his eyes for the courage to say what she wanted to say. "They all know what they want to do. They are perfectly chosen, perfectly suited to do what you need them to. What good, though…" Another tear spilled over her cheek and she found she could not finish her sentence. Her eyes fell away from his.

He leaned towards her and breathed upon her, gently. She smelled the same delicious odor as that which emanated from his mane, and opened her eyes once more, finding that she was able to sit taller, facing him, rather than reclining on his arm.

"What good am _I_?"

The Lion nodded solemnly, in approval for her courage. For a moment, his eyes were full of nothing but empathy, for he too, had shared a similar pain. But then his eyes hardened, making her feel adventurous and courageous, almost as she had felt their first morning in Narnia; fresh, and ready for new experiences.

" _You_ , Susan Pevensie, are no longer that schoolgirl. You are Queen Susan the Gentle, wise in council and gracious in bearing. Do you think that you brother Edmund, for preferring diplomacy to war, is any less important than Peter, who is trained to defend his nation at all costs?"

Susan turned over his words carefully. "You mean that Edmund…balances Peter?"

He nodded. "Do you think that your sister, Lucy, for all her impetuousness, sometimes sees the danger in running headlong into situations that she might not be able to control?"

A light of hope, something that Susan had thought extinguished, flared up inside her. She smiled, and almost felt ready to laugh, something that she had not done for days. "I can keep them safe."

Aslan smiled, but shook his head gently. "You may, at times, keep them from harm. But not always. Just as Edmund will not always be able to talk his way out of a war. And just as Lucy will not always reach a wounded soldier in time. Just as Peter may lose battles, and face dispirited troops. But you know this. You are forewarned. You, if you cannot prevent it, may help them bear it."

And now, the mighty Lion rose to his feet, and said, with a hint of a roar in his voice, "Can you bear this, Queen Susan of Narnia?"

And she too rose to her feet and looked full in his wonderful face, and said, "With your help, Aslan, I can."

Susan galloped back to the castle on a horse that had wings, for Amaranta neither tired nor stumbled during the long trip. When the spires of Cair Paravel came back into view, her heart gave a joyous leap, and she felt as though she might have burst into song or laughter from the sheer joy of living, of being.

The sun was slanting shadows down upon her as she unsaddled her horse and went back into her rooms to change her gown, preferring, this time, a simpler linen dress in a deep shade of wine red.

She passed quietly through the great hall and went out onto the balcony, where she spotted her sister in the royal pavilion and waved. Lucy seemed to be enjoying herself to the utmost, and her centaur advisors were at her side, explaining the details of the melee combat as she took it in with eager eyes.

Susan smiled as she looked down upon the tangled field of dust and armor. It still looked like absolutely nothing to her, but she was glad to see that Edmund still held his own. She could she the bright colors of his red, silver, and blue shield from where she stood. Peter was disarming behind the fence, his face red and bruised, but he was laughing with another combatant, the handsome prince from Tashbaan. Susan felt the same blush color her face.

As the fighting wound down, Susan was more than pleased to see that Edmund did indeed carry the honors from the melee field. Another knight, from the Lone Islands, Sir Arnaut, took the honors from the jousting earlier. And their revelries lasted long into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, everyone, it's time for a crash course in Heraldry!
> 
> Or a scimitar Sable: Prince Rabadash's arms.
> 
> Or is the equivalent of gold, and since it is the first color listed, it is the color of the entire shield. A scimitar Sable is what decorates the shield. Sable is the term for black, so basically his arms are a gold shield with a black scimitar.
> 
> Purpure a chief Argent three spears Sable: Lord Dar's arms.
> 
> Purple shield color. A chief Argent means the shield is topped by a band of silver (argent) metal, and there are three black spears through the shield.
> 
> Argent a lion rampant Gules: King Peter's arms.
> 
> This is the one that's faithful to the book. Silver shield with a red rampant Lion.
> 
> Argent a lion rampant Gules a bordure Azure: King Edmund's arms.
> 
> Same as Peter's, save for a bordure of blue (azure) metal around the edges. A border was often used, just as I said, to denote a younger son in a family.
> 
> Now, women don't usually have their own arms, but I wanted Lucy and Susan to have their own, so I violate a few historical codes here.
> 
> Argent a lion rampant Gules a dove Purpure: Queen Lucy's arms.
> 
> Same as Peter's, save with a purple dove underneath the lion.
> 
> Argent a lion rampant Gules a stag Purpure: Queen Susan's arms.
> 
> Peter's with a purple stag underneath the lion.
> 
> All of the royal family would have similar arms, with these slight differences used to tell them apart. All of these arms, by the way, are my own invention, save for Peter's, which is described in the book.
> 
> Now, heraldic colors all have their own significance, as do the certain animals and weapons, but I won't bore you unless you want me to. Drop a line in your review, and I'll put in a list of meanings behind the arms if you'd like me to in the next chapter.


	3. Edmund and the Arrow

King Edmund stood by the grand doors of Cair Paravel, bidding farewell to his brother and younger sister. King Peter and Queen Lucy were departing for the northern territories of Narnia, ones which were almost constantly besieged by the nation of giants that shared their borders. Garrisoned soldiers had done no good in the regard, and King Peter was tired of letting these vicious neighbors always plead either ignorance or make renewed promises of peace. Half the Narnian army stood ready to teach the giants one certain lesson.

His sister Susan stood beside him, her face worried and her handkerchief at the ready as she watched her younger sister wield the reigns of her mount with precision. Lucy was only ten, but having been left out of several campaigns thus far, she refused to be relegated to the castle any longer. Actually, Peter was also too generous to put his foot down, when he actually should have. But Peter trusted Lucy, and, for all that she was a little rapscallion, she really did belong with him, on the front lines, defending Narnia with all her great heart's passion.

Edmund, lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the brilliant morning sunrise, was not disappointed to be left behind this time. Though he was certainly not afraid of combat, by any means, he also preferred the quiet work in the castle, which also had a great impact on the running of the nation. Peter was aware of the concerns caused by the drought of the Avar, the mighty river vein of Narnia, but he could not concentrate on both relief efforts there and the threat of the giants. It became Edmund's unspoken province, the control and management of domestic problems, in order to leave Peter, the magnificent High King, to defend the nation from foreign threats.

Amidst shouted and waved goodbyes, the horns sounded and the army began its ponderous pace towards the mountains. Edmund, while watching the cavalcade move off, became aware of Susan's tears as the lady waved her handkerchief towards the disappearing back of her sister.

"They will be well, Sister," he said, moving to her side. "Queen Lucy can take care of herself. And you know that our Brother will be with her."

"I know, Edmund," she replied, gazing wistfully into the distance, "but my heart still rests uneasy. She is still very young."

"Would you face her rage at being left behind again?" Edmund chuckled at the memory. "By the Lion! During the Battle at Beruna, Lucy nearly broke her neck climbing out of her bedroom window. I would prefer not to imagine what lengths she would have been prepared to go in this case."

Susan laughed, and turned away from the retreating army. "My wise Brother," she said, embracing him, "where would I be without your wisdom?"

"Exactly where you are, my dear Sister," Edmund said, walking back into the castle, "for you never needed my advice before."

"True, true," Susan replied, laughingly, as they parted ways in the great hall. She retired to her rooms, as Edmund walked to his study. On his desk were already several letters and petitions for aid from the people who drew their wealth from the dwindling Avar. Measures would have to be taken immediately, if the crops of that area were to be saved, and significant investigation of the Avar would have to be made to understand the cause of its reduction.

Edmund read and wrote letters all day, summoning ministers and locals to the audience chamber, where he tried to come up with a plan of assistance. So far, matters were touchy at best. No, no one understood why the Avar had lessened in its yearly flow. Water for crops and drinking would have to be hauled thirty miles at least, and though the beasts of other areas were more than willing to assist the human villages, it would involve much immediate action to save the year's growth.

The sun was sinking below the horizon when the basis of a plan had finally been reached. Edmund sent his advisors away, telling them that they would continue the discussion on the next day. He rested his heavy head in his weary palms and thought somewhat grimly of Peter, heading up north. His brother had probably had had a weary day of riding, but at night there would be stories and laughter, and mock fighting around blazing campfires. Though he tended to be more solemn by nature, Edmund found the quiet of court oppressive when his Brother and Sisters did not liven it by their presence.

As if in answer to his wish of company, a light touch at his arm told him that Susan had brought him comfort. The cup of chocolate was fresh from the kitchens, and to it cook had added a small plate of marzipan strawberries. The almond paste was heavenly, and the chocolate smoothed away many of the day's anxieties.

Susan sat next to him on her throne (for Edmund sat on Peter's when he held court) and smiled at him.

"I hear from the ministers that your wisdom was unrivaled by the Kings of old, Brother," she said. "I too, have been making plans for assistance."

"Susan," Edmund said, looking at her gratefully, "anything would be of assistance right now. I feel as though the weight of the world is on my shoulders."

His sister looked grave. "For so it is, my Brother. But," her voice brightened, "I have been speaking to the wood nymphs, and they have agreed to speak with the spirits of the earth, and they might be able to find out the source of the Avar's trouble. Moreover," she continued, biting the end off a candy strawberry, "they might be able to create an underwater tributary for the Avar from the other river, the Arrow."

Edmund's face lightened considerably. "That would save this year's crops, without doubt! But do you think it can be done?"

"It has been done before, Edmund," Susan said, "and from what I have heard, I have no reason to believe that it cannot be done again."

"Oh, Su!" he cried, jumping from his seat and swinging her around, feeling for once as though he were actually thirteen and not some old, old man. "This is wonderful!"

His older sister laughed as well, hugging her brother tightly. "It is good to hear you laugh, Ed."

She so rarely used that name with him anymore. He remembered when he had asked her not to use it; he had been so sure that he was grown up and mature. But every so often, when she knew it would be most effective in calming his riled spirit, she would use it again.

"You take too much upon yourself." Her voice was unmistakably solemn. "I worry about you, Ed."

He smiled and shook his head. "Our Brother trusts me to manage his affairs when he is unable. And you have your own concerns, and our Sister Lucy is not yet old enough to partake in too much government. Although, she does try."

Susan smiled. "Lucy will do what Lucy will do. Which often ends up being much of what we do. But this worry of yours is unhealthy. You look pale and worn, Brother."

"I will rest tonight, and tomorrow, when you hear the news from the nymphs, I am sure our situation will have improved." He said, stealing the last strawberry and putting it away in two bites. "And now I want my dinner."

"Cook has it waiting for you."

The next morning dawned bright and sharply clear. Midsummer heat shimmered inches above the exposed rocks in the ocean, and the mermaids had retreated deep into their undersea caverns for the blessed cool of the water. The earth itself seemed thirsty, and Edmund's throat tightened as the stinging taste of salt bit the inside of his mouth.

Susan had met him in the hallway, accompanied by two nymphs, one of the wood and the other of the river. They assured him that an underground tributary was the surest route to the renewal of the river, and he had given them permission to put it into effect. Susan had ridden away towards the site of the operation, determined to give any assistance she could and see the success of the experiment.

Edmund had been told that he had a supplicant waiting for him in the audience hall. So, much as he wanted to do as Susan was, he turned his unwilling feet towards the supplicants' hall.

His visitor was gazing out the large windows behind the thrones, the ones that fronted the sea, and her rather…transparent nature was highlighted beautifully by the clear day outside. River nymphs were always somewhat ethereal on land, and for one of them to waste more time than necessary out of its native element was a rarity. He knew that this must be a dire situation.

"My Lady," he said, startling the woman from where she watched the ocean, "I am at your service."

"My King." She curtsied deeply before him. "I have brought news of the Avar's trouble."

Edmund was attentive. He gestured the woman to a seat at the table and took one right next to her, insides writhing as he spent a few desperate moments puzzling all possible problems.

"Your Majesty, the river is being chained."

His face went pale with anger. "Who has denied our edict in this manner? Who built a bridge or a dam where the people of the river declared none were to exist?"

"King Edmund, you need not fear that one of your people has committed this atrocity. As you know, the river originates in the northern realm, the realm of giants. They have harnessed the river to sawmills and grain mills, and it has depleted the strength of the water. Moreover, it has injured some of my sisters and brothers."

For a moment, Edmund sensed elemental fury building within the incarnation of natural strength that sat before him.

"I hastened from my home in the north to inform you of our plight, my King. We have also sent messages to King Peter, whom we understand to be leading an army against the giants. We beg his assistance in throwing off the heavy harness of these vile giants."

"And he will grant it, this I know," Edmund said, rising abruptly from his seat, "I shall send a letter to him at once."

The girl's face lit up in a true smile. "I thank you, King Edmund. You are truly Just."

And she faded from sight.

Edmund stood for one moment, relief spreading palpably through his body. Peter could solve this problem. Peter was on his way to solve the problem.

Now, he had to write that letter…

Susan's arms were bare and covered with muddy water when she heard her brother's cheerful hail. Pushing strands of her dark hair from her face, she shielded her eyes against the sun and waved. Her brother dismounted and came over. Beavers, minks and weasels bowed to him, and turned back to removing the mud that the river sprites were disgorging from the riverbed. Already the smaller river was flowing easily along its new underground passage, but there was still a good deal of sodden earth to be moved. Many of the river denizens were taking it for their houses.

Mr. Beaver was happily surveying and ordering his neighbors about in their labor.

"King Edmund, your Majesty!" he said, bowing low over one claw, "'tis a joy to see you about!"

"Thank you, good Beaver," he replied, smiling, "Thank Aslan that I can be about!"

"Thank Aslan that the work is going ahead as swiftly as planned." Susan said. "After all the worry we had about the route the river was going to take this morning, I was afraid that you might come and see nothing had been accomplished."

"Great things have been accomplished," he told her, "for the visitor I had this morning was from the mouth of the Avar, and she told me where the problem had originated."

Susan gasped. "Wonderful news indeed! What ails the Avar?"

"It seems our neighbors the giants are responsible. They have built so many dams and mills that the river sprites are being harmed by their presence. Hence the decrease of the river."

"Have you sent word to our Brother?" Susan asked, immediately, "He will want to know."

"A letter went off with the fastest rider we have, Susan."

She beamed. "Excellent! Now, Brother," she said, pointing to a fresh bank of mud that had just been thrown up on shore, "why don't you take that shovel, and the two of us can shift this to where it belongs."

"With pleasure, Su," he said, slopping one shovel after another into a wagon, where an industrious mink waited to take it to his winter hovel.

The hours of exercise, talk, and laughter were exactly what he needed. As his muscled started to ache pleasantly, the weight of his crown eased off his head, and he began to feel as lighthearted as all his subjects.

Towards the evening, the river sprites, who had been working much faster than they, came out of the tunnel and announced that the passage was complete. Such cheers! Edmund and Susan whistled and laughed with everyone else, and Edmund used a little of his authority to declare holiday, which meant that everyone had full license to laugh as much as he or she wanted. The fauns dashed about wildly—they had been curiously absent while the work was going on—and the satyrs even emerged from the woods, as the evening drew closer.

They took their fete to the village near the mouth of the great river, where the villagers, already receiving the benefits of the underground tributary, were also rejoicing in the ability to bathe and properly wash their clothes and feed their plants. Susan and Edmund became, instead of monarchs, friends and neighbors, who had done their best during a terrible time of trouble.

Children were splashing in the water, which, though much greater than its former flow, was nowhere near its original volume, and it was safe for them to play in it. The women of the village brought in new potatoes, some fresh ears of corn, so newly ripened that all the sweetness of the sun was encompassed in their taste. Boiled together, they made a delicious meal after all the struggles of the day.

Animals too staggered out of the woods and drank deeply from the renewed river, and all the children screamed in delighted fright as one of the gentle talking bears tossed them around between his paws.

The music of the fauns piped happily through the trees, and Edmund and Susan danced together like the children that they still were, joined by the rest of the villagers.

The world spun, and the stars came out, and they were happy, and wet, and full, and tired, and Edmund and Susan both slept where they fell, which was in the sweet smelling haymow of a farmer.

"Your Majesty! King Edmund!"

There was something tickling the inside of his nose. Edmund groaned, sneezed, and peeled open his sticky eyelids. He still could never quite reconcile himself to waking up to a furry face.

"M-Mr. Beaver!"

The whiskers that had been tickling his nose receded as the animal retreated to a more respectful distance.

"Your Majesty, I bring a message from your rider, who reached your royal Brother, King Peter, yesterday night."

Edmund leaned over and shook Susan awake.

"What has my Brother to tell us?"

"He says that he will take care of the problem. For he has seen himself the damage that has been caused by the giants' careless use of the resource of the river."

Susan laughed and clapped her hands. "Then everything will be well! How does our Brother fare in his campaign?"

"He writes that he met with an encampment of scouts yesterday, and Queen Lucy's idea of iron spears upheld over the footmen's heads was quite effective whenever the giants attempted to win by crushing alone. He says that they sent these off with ease, hopefully running back to the capital to tell the King and Queen that further violation of Narnian borders will not be tolerated!"

Several villagers, who had been listening closely, raised a mighty cheer, which reverberated back and forth through the sunlit woods. Susan smiled and flopped backwards onto the bales of hay. Edmund smiled to see her so disheveled. Usually she had to scold him to remember to change his doublet whenever it became soiled. But here she was, straw all over her clothes and her hair, stuck together with mud and dirtied beyond recognition by the water and grime.

"Hurrah Narnia and the Lion!" Mr. Beaver cried.

"Narnia and the Lion!"

Three weeks later, King Peter and Queen Lucy returned to Cair Paravel. During this campaign, Peter attained his title 'the Magnificent'. While he had been away, his brother had attained the name 'the Just'.

Lucy, who seemed much unchanged by her involvement, spent the whole first dinner together telling everyone how it had been her idea to make spears of solid iron and have them held aloft so that the giants could not step on them without running their feet through.

Susan, who was slightly shocked over the youthful enthusiasm and bloodthirstiness that she saw in her sister, recommended to Peter that Lucy be made to stay indoors and learn…gentler tasks for the next few weeks. But after Lucy shot Peter a desperate look, Peter said that as long as she could remember all of her training as a lady, she was more than capable of learning different things. So Lucy fell silent, happily contemplating mornings practicing with a wooden sword with the sons of the other Lords of Narnia, and Susan kept her mouth shut, only shooting half reproving glances towards her older brother and younger sister.

Edmund was happy to have his brother back. The freedom that he had imagined was quite different from the actuality of not having his older brother's steadying hand right when he needed it.

They all wandered together out onto the balcony, listening to the singing of the mermaids. The sun set slowly, drawing out the beautiful colors of the sky until twilight deepened, leaving only the dark blue blanket of the sky pierced by the diamonds of the stars. And there was no need to speak. They were together. They were a family.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I had some requests about the meaning of heraldic symbols, I'm going to post some explanation of colors and devices.
> 
> Or (gold): Generosity/Elevation of mind
> 
> Argent (silver): Peace/Sincerity
> 
> Gules (red): Warrior/martyr. Military strength or ambition
> 
> Vert (green): Hope, joy, loyalty in love
> 
> Azure (blue): Truth/loyalty
> 
> Sable (black): Constancy/grief
> 
> Purpure (purple): Royalty/sovereignty/justice
> 
> Tawny (orange): Worthy ambition
> 
> Sanguine (maroon): Patience in battle/victory
> 
> Stag (Susan's arms): One who will not fight unless provoked. Peace and harmony.
> 
> Dove (Lucy's arms): Loving constancy and peace; the Holy Spirit; with an olive branch in its bill, it signifies a harbinger of good tidings.
> 
> Lion (Peter and Edmund's arms): Dauntless courage
> 
> Spear (Lord Dar's arms): Honorable warrior, valiant knight
> 
> Scimitar (Prince Rabadash): Not an accepted heraldic symbol, but I figured that since the Calormene weapon of choice is usually the scimitar, I wanted Rabadash to have those on his arms.


	4. Treachery, Part I

King Peter stood in his study and contemplated the letter with shock. His brother, Edmund, stood by his side, face grave, and read over his shoulder. Then they both slowly faced the messenger, who seemed to realize that his presence was entirely unwelcome.

"I—I could return—when it is more convenient, Your Majesties," he stammered, "M—my master is likely to remain in Beruna for several more days, or until it is convenient for Your Majesties to answer."

Peter, who was often polite, even when upset or angered, shook himself out of his grim state and spoke. "I should never consider making an answer without consulting my Sister, whom the letter concerns. But your presence is not required. I ask you to return tomorrow, when we will have spoken of the import of this letter." The High King gestured to his footman, waiting in the room. "Escort this man safely back to Beruna, and inform his master that we are considering our response."

The footman and the messenger bowed and went out. Edmund turned to his brother.

"You are not considering…even allowing that man's advances…"

Peter sighed, dropping the missive on his desk. "It is for our Sister to decide. I would have though Lucy too young to be receiving this kind of offer, but…"

"She is nineteen. Susan has been attracting notice for six years now."

Edmund scoffed. "Not the most flattering of attentions."

"Still," Peter said, rubbing his chin, in what had become a characteristic sign of intense thought, "it is Lucy's right to decide."

"I suppose. Shall you tell her tonight?"

Peter sighed. "I think it is better done sooner than later. Will you come?"

"I do not think I would be welcome. This should be between the two of you. Lucy always puts more stock in what _you_ say, Brother."

"I would rather you be with me, Brother," Peter admitted, tugging on his slight beard, "You always seem to know what needs to be said. I am not half the diplomat you are. I am afraid to seem ridiculous."

"Come, Brother," Edmund said, smiling, "Lucy knows you are ridiculous already."

Peter laughed. Edmund did always know what to say, even if what he said was almost never predictable.

"Well, then, shall you take care of the required trading agreements with Calormen that need drawing up?"

Edmund was on his way out the door. "You may depend on me, Peter."

The older man nodded. "I know I can, Ed."

"Peter!" Lucy cried as she let him into her rooms, "I did not expect to see you again tonight." She crumpled up the piece of mending in her hand and stuffed it back into her sewing basket. "Please, Brother," she gestured to a seat, "is ought amiss?" she asked as she saw his clouded countenance.

Peter sat and pulled the letter from his doublet. "I have received this letter today, Lu, and I think you had better read it. It concerns you."

Lucy, smiling but a little at his strange manner of speaking, took her usual pity for Peter's rather awkward speech, and merely opened the letter, staring a moment at the strange seal that had closed it. Her forehead puckered as she read the words, formally and stiffly framed, and her face grew disturbed and discomfited.

As she neared the end of the letter, the disturbance of her thoughts was painfully apparent. "I do not know this man," she murmured, "at least, not well enough to consider anything like this about him."

Peter sighed with relief, the anxiety of the message leaving him in one swift rush. "Indeed, Sister, had you considered the entreaties of this man, I should have loved you the less for it. Where has this purchased Lord been during our exchanges with the giants or the scuffles against Calormen? He is not a true friend of Narnia, merely a merchant from the outer Islands who wishes to purchase our favor at the same time as he purchases one of our Queens."

Lucy smiled and slapped him playfully with the letter. "And did it never occur to you, Brother, that he might have been brought to this measure by the force of my personal beauty and accomplishments? For though I am not as beautiful as our Sister Susan, I may dare boast some small measure of comeliness, I am sure."

Peter sighed and tugged his sister's long dark curls. "You know I would never say that, Lu."

"I am teasing you, Peter," Lucy said, hugging her older brother. "But this bothers you obviously more than it disturbs me. I shall refuse and that shall be the end of it. Why does it bother you so?"

"This Lord Arnaut is a powerful warrior in his own right. He does have a great amount of influence in the Islands, and I am worried that your refusal, once he has it, will lead him to make trouble. A campaign against the Islands would be difficult right now…"

"…because of the renewed threat of Calormen invasion near Archenland." Lucy finished, standing and pacing near the window. "Lord Arnaut has somewhat the vengeful temper, I know, but surely he would not consider starting a foolish rebellion that would threaten the safety of Narnia?"

Peter smiled. His sister always knew exactly what was at stake. She was second only to Edmund in immediately comprehending the reaction possible from every political action. He should have known better than to assume she would be flattered by the proposal of Arnaut enough to forget her own worth.

"Well, that is the worst possibility, of course," Peter replied, "and I do not know what can be done to prevent it. So, my Lady, we shall have to see what comes and address matters then."

"Don't worry, Peter," Lucy said, kissing him on the forehead, "if Lord Arnaut proves difficult, I shall deal with him myself." Her smile was slightly wicked.

"Dear Aslan, Sister!" Peter laughed, "I would not wish that on any man, be he my worst enemy!"

"Oh, get you gone, Brother!" Lucy shooed him laughingly to the door. "I have to write my refusal, and cannot do so with your face of perpetual gloom in my chambers!"

Peter paused at the door a moment, watching Lucy open her writing desk and remove some sheets of linen paper. "I _am_ glad, Lucy. I couldn't bear to part with you."

Lucy smiled at him, and sighed. "And when shall we see you married, my Lord King? You are six-and-twenty this year, Brother."

Peter smiled and closed the door behind him.

The next morning, Lucy delivered her response to the liveried gentleman-in-waiting who had come for it, and sat down with all composure to breakfast. Susan had been told of the proposal by Edmund the previous evening, and she leaned over the table to squeeze her younger sister's hand. Everyone had been upset by the proposal, especially after Susan's experiences with Prince Rabadash, and no one was willing to let Lucy place herself in similar danger.

Lucy, however, had the kind of smile on her face that she always did when she viewed something as a delicious joke, which was often. "Sister, I was planning to ride to Archenland this morning to see how Lady Aravis is settling into her life there. As you have not made her acquaintance yet, would you like to come with me?"

Susan smiled and agreed, and afterwards, the ice broken after the uncomfortable moment, they all started to chat and eat freely.

After breakfast, Susan and Lucy had their horses saddled, and their ladies-in-waiting attended them outside. Peter and Edmund had been invited along, but both of them had declined, needing to oversee the army after the battle, and the two sisters rode out towards Archenland alone.

The Narnian morning was, as always, very beautiful, even though Susan found it less so than Lucy. Storm clouds, enormous thunderclouds, were piling up in the southern sky, and it seemed likely that a downpour was coming soon. Indeed, as the air darkened and became charged with electricity, the two Queens were only halfway to their destination.

"Oh, no!" Susan cried, at the first heavy droplets of rain splattered against her face, "and no town nearby for shelter!"

"There are some thick trees over there that may do us just as well," Lucy cried, her voice somewhat obscured by the deep rumble of thunder in the air, "come, ride quickly!"

Just as the heavens really opened with all their might, Lucy and Susan had dismounted safely underneath the heavy tree cover, and watched as the force of the downpour soaked the ground instantly and made smaller trees thrash in the power of the gale.

Lucy patted the tree under which they sheltered and murmured, "Thank you, friend Dryad."

"Hopefully the storm will be over soon, if it is this hard and barely begun," Susan said, shivering slightly though her cloak had kept the water from her skin.

Lucy began to nod, still looking out into the storm, when suddenly she gasped and swung back into her saddle. "There is someone out there, lost in the storm!"

"Lucy!" Susan cried, reaching for the horse's bridle to forestall her, but Lucy had already ridden out from beneath the trees, determined to help whomever was lost. Watching through the rain was difficult, and Susan kept losing sight of Lucy whenever a gust of wind spattered rain into her eyes. She waited in tense silence for several minutes, then several more. Though both the man and Lucy had been visible to her as Lucy left, suddenly she could see neither of them. Cold dread laid its hand on her heart.

"Lucy," she whispered, forcing herself to be calm. It was likely that her sister had taken the man to another cluster of trees, the storm prohibiting her return. She would wait until the rain had lessened enough for her to go and see. And soon, as she had predicted, this became possible. Susan mounted her own horse, and rode underneath the damp branches, her worried eyes sweeping the broad field and every cluster of trees. She spurred her horse to a trot, then a gallop, as she cried "Lucy! Lucy!"

When she saw Lucy's dagger abandoned and lying on the ground towards the far end of the field, she knew what had happened, and stooping to gather the small weapon, she wheeled her horse and raced back towards Cair Paravel.

()()()

Lucy struggled with her captor, wiggling as much as she could in order to dislodge herself from the horn of her own saddle and thus fall to the ground. But his arms were strong and implacable, and eventually she decided to marshal her strength and wait for the proper moment. Her hands, tied behind her back, ached furiously, and the rough sacking in her mouth made her choke and cough. But the moment she was freed, her captor would remember that she was a Queen of Narnia!

As the pace of her horse slowed, Lucy discerned the sound of rushing water, and smelled the tang of the sea, so she knew that they had approached the ocean, and the next step of her voyage was probably to board a ship…and the first seed of comprehension entered her mind.

Lord Arnaut would never hear the end of this!

And indeed, as her captor roughly jerked her from the back of the horse and walked her down the sandy, shallow beach where a small boat and two rowers awaited them, she discerned the Lord's boat, the _Ardent_ , anchored farther out in the bay, but preparing to sail. This bay, too shallow to be very convenient for ship anchorage, had long been abandoned by all except the very rare fisherman, and was a perfect place for them to wait. Peter would assume that the news of her rejection would have sent Lord Arnaut, in anger, away from Cair Paravel as soon as he heard it. But Lucy knew that Susan would race back home, and Peter and the army would soon be behind her.

This plot had not been well thought out by Arnaut, and Lucy wondered what force could have impelled him to make such elementary mistakes in his plot. Why not wait until she was isolated, as often happened, and abduct her then? Why leave his tracks so obviously uncovered?

A seed of doubt entered Lucy's mind. After all, the Lone Islands often had dealings with Calormen that they knew nothing of, and should the Tisroc be angered by their treatment of Prince Rabadash…

By the time they were halfway to the ship, Lucy was praying with all her might.

_Please, Aslan, grant Peter second thought…don't let him come after me…don't let him leave Archenland unprotected…_

It was Lord Arnaut's hand that helped her onto the ship, and they looked at each other with perfect comprehension. The man's face, though exceedingly handsome, twisted into a cruel smile as he looked at the young Queen.

"That is what I have always admired about you, Lucy," he said, noting with amusement the heightened flush in her face at his casual usage of her name, "you always understand things sooner than your siblings. We would have made a good pair, you and I."

Lucy's face darkened, and she threw her head back and clenched her fists to her side. "You, Sir, are the snake we held to our bosom, and now you make your strike. Do not think you will poison us so easily, for you underestimate my Royal Family if you imagine they can be fooled so easily into a trap."

Something, a shadow of regret or shame, perhaps, passed quickly over Lord Arnaut's face, but soon his features hardened, and he gestured Lucy into his cabin, as the ship shuddered underneath them, and eased out into the ocean. Lucy swept past him and into the cabin, taking in the luxurious surroundings with one furious glance, and watched him as he locked the door firmly behind him.

He sighed, and turned around. "Judge me not so harshly, mistress. I have tried to win your attention and affection in the only way I knew how."

Lucy snorted. "By rough treatment and abduction?"

"By constancy and feats of arms. The first time I saw you was eleven years ago, when you were but a child, at King Edmund's tournament, but even then I knew that you were to be something different, a force to be reckoned with."

"Lord Arnaut," Lucy said, through gritted teeth, "I have no desire to hear this. For though you may consider yourself to have been compelled by love, I do not doubt that you have something material to gain from this. After all, the Tisroc, with whom I know you have private dealings, will hardly be able to resist the sight of Archenland so soon unprotected, after he has seen how easy it might be to take it. And I cannot imagine but that you would profit from distracting the High King's attention with the abduction of his sister."

Lord Arnaut was silent.

"Sir, to earn my respect, you would take me to Cair Paravel and cut off all dealings with the Tisroc. But continue on your course and you shall never have either my respect or my love."

The dangerous glint was back in his eyes. "I need neither from you, my Lady. The Tisroc's respect and trust will be enough for me when he conquers Narnia at last."

He turned towards the door and unlocked it, turning back only once to stare at the imprisoned Queen. Then he shut and locked the door again.

Lucy sighed deeply, and went to the nearest porthole, watching in despair as the blue-green waters of the ocean bore her swiftly away from Cair Paravel. She repeated her prayers to Aslan and begged her brother, in her mind, not to come after her. Narnia was balanced on a knife's edge, and at its most dangerous point since the battle of the White Witch.

()()()

King Peter paced impatiently in the Counsel Hall, listening to the harping of ministers telling him to be patient, to wait for news from the abductor, to not jump to hasty conclusions. But Peter's mind was foggy, clouded, and through the haze pounded one dull, red, thought.

_He has Lucy. Lucy is in danger. Lucy could be hurt._

His favorite sister, the one he had been in charge of taking care of for so long, the one who could guess his thoughts and find the answers to his problems. His helper in battle and government. His littlest sister. Precious Lucy.

"My King, at least wait for defiance from this Arnaut!"

"My King, consider the threat from the Tisroc!"

"Peter!"

The hall was empty and Peter sat with his head in his hands, a headache pounding between his ears and tears ready to his eyes.

"Peter?"

Susan and Edmund, their faces drawn and gray, moved towards him and placed their hands on his shoulders.

"Oh, Brother," Susan's voice mourned, "we will find her. But we cannot send all the army to do so. Calormen is at our door, and we must assume this is a trap between Arnaut and the Tisroc. Of all people, we know what the Tisroc is capable of."

"And do we know what the Arnaut is capable of?" Peter snapped, jerking from his seat and resuming his frantic pacing. "She has no one to care for her, to defend her with sword and shield."

"You must go after her, Peter," Edmund said, "and Susan and I will watch Archenland. Take the _Splendour Hyaline_ , and you will be at the Lone Islands in a week. I cannot believe that you should not find allies to assist you on the Islands, regardless of how much influence Arnaut wields."

"Sound counsel, Edmund," Susan said, halting her elder brother in his stride, "Go, Peter. Go before you do yourself a harm in inactivity."

Two ships that night raced upon the ocean. One, to the safety of sure harbor. The other, for vengeance.

 


	5. Treachery, Part II

Lucy once again slammed her fists into the infuriating windows, whose clasps refused to give under her tireless ministrations. The narrow letter-opener from the desk in her cabin, probably overlooked in its potential to do any harm, had been the first object to give her any hope during her preliminary search of the room. She had hoped it would help her pick the lock of the windows that looked out over the sea and thereby help her escape her prison if not the ship, but apparently Arnaut had known enough to ensure that it would not help her in those endeavors. Indeed, though the metal of the thing was solid, the last few tries had bent it nearly to the breaking point, and Lucy had abandoned it, not wishing it to break off in the lock and really foil a potential escape.

Just as she had flung herself down into a plush chair to stew in her frustration, the door opened and her midday meal was brought in. Besides being a captive, Lucy had had little to complain of with her treatment; the food was far superior to most meals she had had on shipboard, especially after being five days at sea, and those who attended her were polite and attentive, though completely unwilling to help her. It seemed the loyalty between Arnaut and his servants was to be depended upon, and despite her dislike of the man, Lucy couldn't help but admire that, since true loyalty could not be purchased, but must be won.

The woman who placed the tray upon the table and arranged the place settings was a servant she had seen before, thin and dour, with a strange patterning of scars around one wrist. But despite this unpromising exterior and countenance, Lucy had found a kind soul, if a little reticent.

"Are we approaching the Islands, Ramona?"

Though the Queen spoke suddenly, the woman did not start. "Another good day's wind will set us there, Majesty."

With that, she made a curtsey and left Lucy to her meal.

During the first day of her captivity, Lucy had made a great show of not eating her meals, flinging them, in fact, against the door of her cabin. In doing so, however, she had done nothing more than ruin a valuable rug and put the serving women to a great deal of trouble cleaning up her trays and bringing her new ones. So now, Lucy resigned herself to the momentary whims of fate, and made an excellent meal of whatever was brought to her. This meal was cold lamb in sauce, with fresh peas and potatoes, along with an excellent glass of cold white wine and a steaming pot of tea. Dessert was toasted sweet oaten bread, with various jams and jellies to put on top, as well as a small amount of precious and expensive dark chocolate.

After she ate, Lucy had little to do but stand, pace, read, or stare out the window, hoping and fearing alternately that her brother would come for her. By this point, she had tried everything she reasonably could in order to attract Arnaut's attention or free herself from the room, but even her remarkable ingenuity was foiled, for she could do neither. Since he had left her, she had not seen Arnaut's—or any man's—face. Only her quiet and polite ladies-in-waiting had seen her. Oh, but it was nearly maddening!

And they were still another day offshore. Lucy had considered simply throwing a chair through the windows and swimming for shore, considering that she would probably get there and be able to conceal herself before Arnaut could get a boat in the water, but that extremity would have to wait.

Until then, Lucy certainly _did_ pace, and she did take advantage of her captor's not inconsiderable collection of books, something that sheer frustration drove her to days ago. For a small cabin, it was remarkably well-stocked with books, and Lucy couldn't help wondering whether they had originally been there or if they were additions solely for her benefit. She rather steered clear of this quandary, though, for if they _were_ Arnaut's books, he was rather cleverer than she had first thought, and if they were _not_ , then the care for her intellectual comfort was disturbing.

Lucy read for an hour or two, judging by the descent of the sun, when suddenly the boat slowed, and dropped anchor. Laying aside her book, Lucy tried in vain to see what was happening outside, but the placement of the windows and portholes was not conducive to seeing the activity on shipboard, and she was forced to wait until the action reached her.

Which it did, in a matter of a few minutes. For the first time in five days, Lucy looked towards the door and saw Arnaut unlock it and enter. He looked much the same as he had, but for all his swagger, he appeared suddenly unsure as he looked at her.

"Your Majesty," he greeted her softly, "if you would come with me."

"Where to, Sir?" Lucy's voice was coldly interrogative.

Arnaut looked at her sharply. "As your captor, do you imagine that I will answer you?"

"As an honorable man," Lucy challenged him, "I think you ought."

"And you would call me an honorable man, Majesty?" He scoffed, the uncertainty banished from his eyes. "I am a rogue, and never shall you see me as anything different."

Lucy nodded. "True, Sir. I probably never shall. One can hope, though, for the best to eventually emerge from any man."

"Do you so hope, my Lady?"

Lucy held his gaze until it faltered. "As your captive, do you imagine that I will answer you?"

She could hardly have struck him a blow that would have wounded him deeper, and for a moment, she regretted her harsh words.

She need not have.

His eyes were stormy dark and flinty as he approached her, gripping her arm in something that approached violence. "It is true," he said, as he pulled her towards the door, exercising his strength in a way he had not done since her capture, "you _are_ my captive, and I _am_ your captor, and it might be time I remembered that, and gave _you_ good reason to recall it as well."

Brought out into the brilliant afternoon sun, Lucy lost her bearings for a moment, since this was the first time in days she had seen it unsheltered. But soon she perceived that she was being taken towards another ship, not a swift galley of war, as the one she was currently on, but a small merchant vessel, made expressly for the reasonably easy passage between the Lone Islands and Calormen.

"Am I a slave, then, that I shall endure such a passage?" Lucy murmured, so the assembled crewmen could not hear.

"It is only at my will that once you are delivered to Calormen you shall _not_ become a slave, Majesty."

His words sent a deep chill into Lucy's heart.

"Rogue though you are, you are still a noble of Narnia!" she cried, caring not who heard her words. "What can be offered you that will make you betray your country so?"

His smile nearly froze her heart over. "I thought we had already discussed questions and answers between us, Lady."

"I despise you." She whispered.

He made her no answer.

The _Splendour Hyaline_ flew over the sea, bouncing alone the waves as energetically as the dolphins that kept to its sides, seeming to laugh with the beauty of the day and the intoxication of its freedom. Despite the seriousness of the mission upon which they were embarked, the men-at-arms and the sailors were imbued with the energy of the ocean and certain of finding the Queen and thrashing those who had captured her.

Peter, in his cabin, was less than certain. Even with the full strength of the wind as his back, and the certainty of being in sight of the Islands by evening, his heart was full of black foreboding, and he could not bring himself to lightheartedness.

He could not seem to stop himself from thinking about what might have happened to Lucy by this point. Countless times, Peter imagined the pain and humiliation she might have been subjected to, and upon each repetition of his dark thoughts, his desire for revenge made his sword hand twitch, imagining the traitor lord spitted upon the end of his blade.

Anger and vengeful thoughts made him short with his advisors and cruel to those who counseled patience or circumspection. Tumnus the faun, who insisted on his friendship with the Queen to be one of the rescue party, was one of those who was close enough to him to caution him as to his attitude. As a result, Peter could hardly stand to be in the same room as the faun and almost had him restricted to his quarters for the remainder of the journey. The sudden conviction of his pettiness, however, restrained him.

Peter sighed and rested his heavy head on his hands. He had not slept in the past days, and his constant restless inactivity chafed him sorely. Though truly never as just as his brother Edmund or cautious as his sister Susan, he could never remember being this angry or this thirsty for vengeance. He wished that one of his siblings could have accompanied him, if only for their calming influence, but he needed both of them to ensure Archenland's safety.

"Aslan, my help and comfort…help me now, when I need it most. Help me find her! Help me ensure her safety!"

Peter's prayer had broken from him before he could stop it. And indeed, once said, he could not wish it recalled. "Please help me."

But whereas before, invoking the great King's name would have brought him a sense of peace, comfort, or surety, now he felt nothing but a gulf between him and the Great Lion. Peter felt his strength leave him and he nearly cried.

"I cannot save her without Your help! Please, Aslan…help me!"

"Help you do what, Son of Adam?"

Peter started and whirled. There was no one in the room with him, and yet, despite the evidence of his eyes, he knew the presence of Aslan. He knelt on the floor in fealty to his greater Lord, and answered,

"My sister, Aslan. Lucy. He has stolen her…taken her…we do not know where. I need Your aid, Your wisdom, to find her."

"But this is not all you desire."

The words were softly spoken, but the growled edge of them reminded Peter that one lied to the Lion at one's own peril. His darker visions of revenge upon Arnaut returned to him.

"No, Aslan. I regret it, but cannot bring myself to stop."

"And yet you must, Peter. Vengeance is mine to take, not yours, no matter how much you may desire it."

"You could make me Your instrument, Aslan, as you have done before against the enemies of Narnia."

The voice was quiet for a moment. "I could, Peter. But you did not hate those enemies with the passionate hate you treasure now. You would not obey My words."

Peter was truly stunned. "I, not obey You? I, who have been the loyal caretaker of Your country? Do You place no faith in me then?"

Aslan's voice whipped up to startling fury. "Do you think I do not know your heart, Peter? Do you believe you can fool me with your lies?"

Peter bent his head as the maelstrom of words swept over him, and along with their fury he felt their absolute justice. Shame and humiliation whelmed over him.

Quietly, he said, "What will You have me do?"

Aslan's voice was similarly gentle. "I would have you be the man I know you to be. I would have you be truly Magnificent, in manner and bearing. I would have you leave revenge to me. Trust me, Peter."

"I do trust You, Aslan," Peter said, humbly, "but Lucy is my dearest sister. I could not bear it…" he stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

"I know, Son of Adam. I gave you family for comfort and strength. That easily becomes weakness. Know, and have faith: all this is in my hands." The Lion chuckled, suddenly. "Do you think Lucy incapable of caring for herself?"

Peter laughed, the sound strange in his mouth after so many days of frowns and silence. "I know she is…but, she may be hurt…afraid…"

"I tell you the truth, Peter my King," Aslan's voice rolled with the power of thunder and rain, "until you let go the vengeance in your heart and deal with Arnaut as you would a man who had done any other crime, that is, justly and fairly, you shall not find your sister."

Peter knelt lower. "With Your help, great Lord, I will do as you say."

Lucy lay in the cargo hold, once more bound and gagged. Thankfully, she was left her privacy, although, casting about the foul dark of her prison, she found little enough to help her. However, she sat patiently against the wall, rubbing the cords of her wrists against a rusted nail. Occasionally, she scraped her skin against the jagged metal, and she bit down on the gag to make sure no sound alerted her captors to her movements.

After hours (or so they felt) in the solitude and stench of the hold, she felt her bonds give way. With one sharp jerk, they fell from her wrists, and as soon as they had, Lucy took the gag from her mouth and breathed in deeply, choking on the stench, but glad to be free at last.

Of course, she had nowhere to go. After a brief examination of the door above her, she realized that even if she could break the solid wood and iron trapdoor, a guard would most certainly have been posted to watch for such an eventuality. Otherwise, Lucy discerned nothing of her surroundings, as the darkness of the space left her only the recourse of touch. She crawled about now, feeling the floor and the walls, trying to find something to use as a club when eventually their destination was reached.

From the Islands, it took less than a day to make landfall in Calormen, although thankfully another day by river (in a smaller boat) to reach Tashbaan, probably her final destination. She shuddered to think what the Tisroc and his foul sons would make of this opportunity…she would be a valuable bargaining chip against Narnia.

No…it could not happen. In the confusion of reaching port and changing ships, she could probably escape. With the richness of her garments alone, it would be possible to hide, changing them for money and food, and so doing, make her way slowly back to the Islands or Narnia.

This plan calmed Lucy, and though she found not so much as a spare plank to use as a weapon, she was ready to wait and see what would happen.

As she predicted, in several hours more (during which she received no food or drink) she felt the boat slow and eventually, heard the anchor drop. She put the gag back in her mouth and held her arms behind her back, wrapping the ties loosely about them. Hopefully they would not check them or fasten her with chains. On shore, it would be an easy matter to loose her hands and run.

The door above her opened, and two men descended the ladder, while Lucy winced at the brightness of late afternoon light. Catching her by the arms, they hauled her roughly to her feet and forced her up the ladder. Lucy stood blinking in the afternoon sun as Arnaut paid off the ship's captain; afterwards, he, she and a few other of his assistants rowed to shore in the dinghy.

Lucy's gag had been removed, although she knew better than to scream for help. The slave trade in Calormen was well-developed, and all knew that it was death by the law of the land to assist a slave. Indeed, no one looked at her twice, a lovely girl in beautiful garb, with a Queen's crown upon her head, being led through the filthy market like human chattel.

Arnaut's hand never stirred from her arm, and Lucy felt a stab of loathing and unease. The steely strength in his hold was unmistakable; if he did not let go, Lucy would have no chance to run or break free.

Suddenly, an outcry arose in the street before them. A wealthy lord, from his manner and mount, stood up in his saddle, saber drawn and preparing to strike the filthy beggar woman who had been unlucky enough not to get out of his way. This woman, screaming in despair, caught sight of the foreign group and crawled to them, begging them in a tongue unintelligible with fear, to save her.

As the woman caught hold of Arnaut's ankle and pressed desperate kisses of supplication to it, Arnaut drew his own sword…and let Lucy go.

She shrank backwards, waiting until the action had come to fever pitch. The rich lord dismounted, and immediately Arnaut's henchman came to his side. As the last one turned his face from Lucy, she wriggled her arms and turned, dashing back through the alleys and making for the harbor. If she could hide among the vendors, trade her clothes and blacken her face with ash until it were unrecognizable…

She heard screams and shouts from the tableau behind her, but did not stop for an instant. Following the smell of the sea, she stopped at the first wretch she saw and traded her clothes for a pouch of food, water, and peasant wear. While the vendor exclaimed over the brocade of one of Lucy's favorite gowns, she wiggled into the new clothing and fastened the bag to her waist. Wrapping her hair in a veil of dark cloth and dashing herself liberally with dirt from the road, Lucy turned and ran off again.

Reaching a sheltered alley not far from the harbor, she stopped, panting and parched, for a few moments' rest. Her lips were cracked with thirst, and her stomach was reminding her in no uncertain terms that it had not had any sustenance since the day before. She opened the parcel and spared herself a few slices of melon and two mouthfuls of water. That done, she curled herself up into a small, unnoticeable figure in filthy and sweat-stained robes, and watched the harbor for Arnaut's reappearance.

The sun's warmth and light gradually left the scene, and it became harder and harder for Lucy to keep her vigil on the crowded harbor. She was tired, and cold, and the sweat from the day started to chill her body in the night's coolness. She shifted her aching body and wrapped the few bits of cloth tightly about her. Her alley started to fill up with fellow unfortunates, and none spared so much as a glance for her.

Arnaut had still not returned to the harbor when fatigue overpowered her and she fell asleep, huddled in the corner of a doorway, back supported by empty, broken barrels. It was a far cry from Cair Paravel, Lucy thought dreamily, drifting off, but at least it was a rest in freedom.

 


	6. Treachery, Part III

When Lucy woke up, she had a terrible crick in her neck, a horrible taste in her mouth, and a pounding headache. All in all, it felt like she had been dancing a late night with the fauns and satyrs. She half expected Peter to be looking down on her, reminding her that she was a Queen, supposed to conduct herself with dignity and decorum.

With the memory of her brother fresh in her mind, when she opened her eyes to the view of the harbor, filthy and busy in the light of the dawn, a crushing disappointment swept over her. Still, she reminded herself, before she let her feelings get the better of her, she was free, at least.

Standing timidly, she glanced around the alley to make sure she would go unnoticed as she had a good stretch. Then, she rinsed out her mouth with water and then took a deep drink. It wasn't bread, honey, and tea, such as she would have had at Cair Paravel, but it was certainly preferable to all the delicacies she had received on Arnaut's ship.

The question remained, though, of what to do now?

Obviously, Arnaut would still be looking for her. If he had had orders to take her as a hostage to Tashbaan, then disobeying the Tisroc would make his life a target for every bounty hunter from Calormen to the Lone Islands. There would be no way he would let her escape if he could prevent it.

This meant avoiding the harbor and the major roads out of the city. Even in her current garb, she could little likely escape detection. In fact, her peasant robes made it even more likely that she would be stopped without warning and searched.

Then, there was Peter. He would certainly be coming after her, and would probably be walking the Islands now, making inquiries as to Arnaut's (and thereby her) whereabouts. Lucy sighed. He would find nothing on the islands…and Arnaut's galley would probably be far out into the ocean, avoiding detection until Peter exhausted his inquiries on the Islands. Then he would have nowhere else to go, and it would be unlikely that he would consider looking for her in this out of the way harbor town.

Lucy rested her head against the cool adobe wall beside her and considered. If she could make it to the Lone Islands, she could find a friendly town that would recognize her as a Queen of Narnia (thankfully, she still had her crown and seal for identification) and from there either purchase passage back home or stay there until she could find a courier to deliver a message to Cair Paravel.

If she could only make it to the Islands…!

She nibbled on the hunk of salty black bread that she'd purchased from the man who now had her clothes. The stuff was so thick and bitter that it stung the inside of her mouth and hurt her teeth as she bit down. Grimacing, she had to moisten each piece in water until she could choke it down. Afterwards, her water had the same flavor as the bread.

There seemed little to do but wait. If she had to get out of the city, the best route would still be by sea, and since the harbor was under watch by Arnaut and his men, she had to see where his watchdogs were stationed.

Once she had finished her breakfast (of sorts) she crept ever closer to the mouth of her alley, finally stationing herself behind a smashed-up wooden crate, which, considering her garb, provided her with enough cover to observe without being noticed.

On her primary sweep of the area, it seemed as though all in the harbor were fully engaged in work on one ship or another. She noticed no one who looked familiar, though she had seen only a few of Arnaut's men, and…

And…

Where was the ship?

Where was the ship in which she had been brought here?

She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and scanned the harbor once again. No. The boat she had been in had been a single-masted quick cruiser for passage between the Islands and Calormen. All of these boats were double-masted (or more) and were for longer passages between Calormen and Narnia.

What was going on? Why would he have left?

Lucy kept her eyes firmly on the harbor while her mind wandered freely. Could he have pulled the ship to another cove in order to confuse her and make her believe that he had abandoned his search? No. No, he thought too highly of her intelligence, she was sure, to attempt such a simple ruse. Besides, Lucy was familiar with this area…it would take half a day's journey to make it to another harbor, and a longer time overland to return in order to capture her. Besides, if Arnaut had taken his ship away from this port, there would be too few people left to keep looking for her.

The ship was gone, but Lucy knew, deep in her bones, that Arnaut and his men were still in the city.

The sun climbed high into the sky as Lucy observed the harbor. As she saw it, it would take at least three people to properly cover every area of it. In her mind, she plotted where she would post lookouts, and scoured those areas regularly. Still, she saw no pattern of people in those areas…no faces that remained for very long, or even a series of faces.

Now she was thoroughly confused. Why would the harbor be undefended?

Perhaps she needed a different vantage point. The rooftop of the vacant house next to her (from the looks of it, it belonged to a merchant as his base of operations while planning a trip to Narnia or the Islands) would be a perfect spot. Lucy inched away from the harbor, legs complaining as they endured pressure for the first time in hours. When she had retreated far enough, she climbed on various boxes and alley junk until she reached the balconies, and from there, pulled herself onto the roof.

The exertion in the heat of the day made her powerfully thirsty. She had always hated visiting Calormen, which is why she had not joined Edmund and Susan on their last visit to the Tisroc's court. Although, considering the way that trip had turned out, it was probably better that she hadn't. She would have walked right up to Prince Rabadash and punched him right on his aristocratic nose for threatening her Sister in such a base-born fashion!

Lucy loosened one of the shawls around her shoulders to shade her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. What nation with sense would establish itself in the desert, in any case?

The youngest Queen of Narnia glowered darkly as she resumed her endless watch on the portal of her potential freedom.

"It's running up a flag of truce, Your Majesty. I think it spotted our colors."

King Peter strode to the tiller. "Can you make out what ship it is, Captain?"

There was a moment of silence as the man gazed through the glass and the glare of the sun's reflection of the choppy midday ocean. "It's the _Ardent_ , Majesty. We've caught them."

A great _huzzah_ sounded from the men, which Peter hastily waved away. "Celebrate when we have the Queen aboard, men," he said, feeling his hand tighten on his sword and his blood stir, "not a moment before."

Forcing himself to relax, he ordered the pilot to pull to their leeward and drop anchor. When the two ships floated broadside to broadside and the soldiers on the _Splendour Hyaline_ stood as a solid wall facing the traitor's boat, the boson called for their message.

The reply was sent that Lord Arnaut would board, if it suited his Majesty King Peter the Magnificent.

Peter nodded his response to the boson, and it was related that his Majesty the King awaited the traitor's presence.

As Arnaut made his way towards the ship, Peter's mind was whirling with questions.

_Why did he let me catch him? What has gone wrong?_

Obviously, it did not do to meet Arnaut on the deck like an old friend. Peter instead ensconced himself in his spacious quarters, and ordered that the table be laid with tea for his guest (he managed to keep himself from spitting the words). When two of his soldiers entered the room with Arnaut following docilely behind, Peter prayed to Aslan to give him patience.

Wordless, he gestured to the chair across from where he sat, remaining seated as he gestured the soldiers away firmly.

The doors closed and Arnaut was in his chair, though he made no move to touch the things laid out. Finally, when neither man spoke, Arnaut met Peter's eyes with a look of utter…desolation.

"I have miscalculated, Your Majesty," he said, quietly, "and though it is my mistake, it will be your honored Sister, Queen Lucy, who may suffer for it. I come to humbly and contritely offer my assistance in her discovery."

"You are humble and apologetic when it can do no good, _Sir_ ," Peter growled, "I remind you that without your treachery my Sister would not be in danger. Were you so incompetent, then, that you _lost_ her?"

Arnaut smiled tightly, dropping his gaze to his folded hands. "Say rather, King Peter, that she was clever enough to throw us off. Ten men I had, besides me, in the entourage to make sure that could not happen. Perhaps it was my fault not to bind her with chains, for she certainly slipped the rope, somehow."

As Peter heard the word 'chains' associated with his sister, his control almost slipped, but at the same moment he felt the calming influence of Aslan in his mind. He needed to be calm, just, and honorable in this dealing, no matter how much it might pain him. Justice would be served; by all the laws that Arnaut had violated in this action, he would certainly suffer enough. Without his help, Peter would be left wandering the Islands with no clue as to where his sister had escaped.

"I am not surprised. Had she had a weapon, she would have taken control of your ship."

"I believe you are right, Majesty," Arnaut shook his head, a smile hovering over his lips, "she is a wondrous woman, your Sister."

"Careful, Sir. I will not have a traitor's lips speak of my Sister with such familiarity."

"Yes, Majesty. I have no right, I know."

"Very well. Now, tell me, what happened?"

Arnaut related the circumstances of Lucy's disappearance, and when he was done, Peter was very bleak indeed.

"We discovered that she had traded her clothing for beggar's robes, food, and water. But after that, the cretin she gave them to had no idea of where she had gone. I…" he paused, suddenly…embarrassed?

Peter forced him on. "What?"

"I…purchased her dress from the man, Majesty. I have it on my ship, for when we find the Queen."

Peter was hard-pressed to be thankful, furious, or repulsed.

"After that?"

"Nothing, Majesty. We could find no other trace of her."

Peter sighed. "As well you know, Sir, relations are not such between Narnia and Calormen that the Royal flagship can simply put in at the harbor and my soldiers march up and down the streets, shouting the Queen's name. As you were to sell the Queen to the Tisroc, though, _your_ relations with Calormen must be tolerable."

"No, Majesty," Arnaut said, quickly.

"No? Your relations are not cordial?"

"No…I was not going to sell the Queen to the Tisroc. She was not to be a hostage. I was always going to keep her safe, Majesty. To Calormen, she was only to be a distraction."

"Your… _generous_ attitude to the Queen will not create any mercy on your behalf. You acted in mercenary selfishness, and it is only a slight connection to the Queen that kept you from violating her in the basest way," Peter's voice hardened, "And adding to this, base Lord of my country, your treason makes you lower than the dust. It is _only_ because I require your assistance that I do not smite you dead here as the most worthless of criminals. Remember this."

The other man's face was pale, with lips drawn tight. "Yes, Majesty."

"Now, you are able to make port at this city, correct?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"And your associates will not be out-of-place while walking the streets?"

"No, Majesty."

"Then, with some soldiers of mine to ensure that you keep your word, Sir," Peter said, "you will return to the city where you lost my Sister and not return, on pain of death, until you have discovered her."

"Majesty, it is not so simple," the man spoke, quietly.

"How so?"

"I was supposed to present the Queen in Tashbaan at the end of this day, Majesty. If I do not, agents of the Tisroc are poised, waiting, in this city to find the Queen and drag her there in chains. My life would also be forfeit. We might have a reprieve of half a day while the messenger from Tashbaan is dispatched to deliver this edict, but beyond that, all our lives are worth nothing."

Peter stared and felt his vision bleed red. "Then, _Sir_ , we had best find her in the next day. Or you will wish the Tisroc had gotten to you before I did."

Arnaut nodded, and rose slowly, turning towards the door.

Lucy could never remember when she had been so warm. Though she had tried to keep her skin covered as best she could, she felt ill and weak, her clothes soaked through with sweat and portions of her skin as red as a lobster. And _still_ she could find no signs of Arnaut or his men in harbor.

Finally, she had had enough, and crawled across the roof, lowering herself into the vacant building by the ladder through the floor. Lying in the cool shade and shuddering violently against the cool stone floor, she felt so vile that she wanted nothing more than to turn over and retch, violently.

Oh, yes, she thought, as the black bread churned around and around in her stomach, she would make sure that Lord Arnaut never again saw the light of day after this! Perhaps she would just stake him outside in the hot Calormen sun and let him suffer as she was suffering.

Panting, she laughed. "Forgive me Aslan. Vengeance is not mine, I know." Slowly, she moved her arm until she reached the pouch of (now hot) water. Rolling a few drops across her forehead, she took a chance and set her lips to the open end.

The salty taste of the water made the thirst even worse, and Lucy cried out, softly, in frustration and pain and anger.

It was the sound of her frustration, pitiful and childish, that drew her back to herself, and, with a tremendous effort, she sat up, leaning against the wall.

"I am a Queen of Narnia, and I will not be defeated by sun-sickness and thirst." She said, quietly, her stronger voice cool and determined in the silence of the attic. The sound of that voice helped her, and she spoke again. "If Arnaut has retreated, it is because my Brother is near," _Dear Peter_ , "and if my Brother is near, he has caught the traitor and learned of my location,"

With every word, she grew stronger and stronger, until, finally, she stood, straight and tall.

"And I will not meet him as a cowering and weak child!"

"Well said, Lucy of Narnia."

Though the attic was much too small to hold a beast of his stature, Aslan stood calmly, regarding her fondly.

"You are now truly to be called the Valiant."

"Oh, Aslan," Lucy sighed, falling to her knees once again, arms outstretched, "I am so happy to see You!"

"And I you, child. Though we have never truly left each other, for I am always with you and you are always with me."

Drawing close, the great Lion embraced her with his paws of velvet and she buried her face in his mane, feeling that sensation of calm, comfort, and absolute love that she always felt in his presence. As she held him, her pain, thirst, and hunger faded, until her skin was free of angry burns and her body was cool and comfortable again.

Murmuring her thanks, she withdrew from his arms and knelt before him once again.

"Was I right, Aslan? Is Peter here?"

"Yes. And you shall see him soon. Already he makes his way here; you will need do little more than wait here and wait to be found."

"And Arnaut? What of him?"

A look of deep concern crossed Aslan's face. "Arnaut is much as your Brother Edmund was, once, though his treason came closer to plunging Narnia into chaos than even your Brother's did. However, he has proven himself as worthy of mercy, though he still must be punished. I leave the job of intercessor for him to you, Lucy. His offences against you have been greatest, and therefore your pardon will truly guide him back to what is right."

"Then, Aslan, this I shall do," Lucy said, "I trust You."

"Your trust, daughter, is one of the most precious gifts I have been given. May you continue to grant it to me."

"I cannot imagine a world where I did not know, love, and trust You, Aslan!" She cried passionately.

"There will never be a world where I do not exist," the Lion paused, "but my form shall not always be the same. When you return, will you look for me, Lucy?"

She did not know what to say. "Return?"

Aslan nodded, sorrowfully. "The day draws near."

Memories flooded back to Lucy. Her mother, their London home, Professor Kirke's rambling house, the war, her father…the pressure was suddenly too great, and she felt like a seven-year-old child again. Longing and regret flooded her heart with nearly equal force, but eventually regret won out.

"Must we really, Aslan? Must we return?"

"Your work, dearest, in both worlds, is not over yet. You four are unique, and I have will have tasks for you later. You will return, Lucy. But soon, your stay at this time will be over."

It was the hardest exercise of trust to believe His words and not force an explanation. Lucy bit her lips, but finally, it was without rancor in her heart that she lowered her head and, "I trust You, Aslan."

Aslan bent his mighty head and she felt his whispery breath across the top of her head.

"I bless you, Queen Lucy, Queen of Narnia and the world to come, and give you to the world of the present."

At the end of His benediction, Lucy was suddenly aware that she was alone, once again.

Alone, but not quite. After all, He was always with her and she was always with Him.

Smiling softly, Lucy made her way down to the lower levels, where she found a bedroom to spend her night, and slept soundly, dreaming of her reunion with her Brother and being reunited soon with her family.

Before she slept, though, she realized that leaving Narnia would not be so difficult…she would still have the dearest things in the world; Edmund, Susan, and Peter. And she had Aslan's promise of return to treasure.

 


	7. A Single, Golden Year

The great hall at Cair Paravel had hardly ever been more beautiful or more crowded, for it was on this night that the twenty-eighth birthday of their High King, Peter the Magnificent, conqueror of Giants, Protector of the Realm, was to be celebrated.

The four siblings stood together on the balcony overlooking the sea, rather loathe to have to go inside and greet the massive crowd of their assembled guests. For now, they treasured the minutes spent in privacy, with little conversation but much warmth and love, exchanging smiles and softly spoken jokes.

All of them felt the same sort of wistful sorrow. During the last year, starting with Lucy during the period of her abduction, they had been visited at different times by Aslan, warning them that this year, this single, golden year, was to be their last in Narnia. Though each of them would have thought that such news would be devastating, oddly enough, they found that they were able to bear it well.

But each moment, therefore, was precious. Even this cool February night, watching the ice motes float idly along the currents of the bay while the storm clouds chased each other in wild play across the troubled sky was (they felt) the most beautiful sight they had yet seen.

The crowd's clamor inside brought them abruptly back to themselves, and almost as one, they began straightening themselves for the friendly fray below.

"Well, I mean not to be unhappy tonight," Lucy declared stoutly, tugging at her evening gloves as though putting on a pair of gauntlets, "I noticed two or three young gentleman who might have the strength to last the night on the dance floor, as I intend to do."

"Heaven preserve them, Sister," Edmund laughed, "for I know how you dance!"

"Just because _you_ cannot keep up, Ed," Susan smiled, still poised next to Peter by the table, "they might well be able to."

"Well, I will take my chances and ask you, Sisters, to reserve at least a pair of dances for me."

"They were yours before you asked, Brother," Lucy said gaily, planting a firm kiss on his cheek.

Susan moved to join them, leaving Peter's side, and Lucy looked back at their silent Brother, who seemed entirely lost in reverie. While Susan and Edmund bantered back and forth of how they intended to spend the evening, she moved over to him.

"Brother? Are you well?"

He took a deep breath and turned his gaze from the sea, and met Lucy's eyes. She was astounded to see that they were wet.

"I am well, Lucy. I am well."

Gently, Lucy placed one hand over his and squeezed, the pressure letting him know that she shared his reluctance and sorrow at the prospect of leaving their beloved kingdom.

"Then let me see you smile, Brother. You shall break a good many hearts if you do not do your duty on the floor."

"When we enter, you shall see me smile. I shall then have reason to."

Lucy could not quite bring herself to smile at this comment, and she broke from him to join her siblings as they prepared to enter the hall.

Among great and loud cries of rejoicing, they entered and saluted their assembled guests.

"Long live King Peter! Long live Queen Susan! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Lucy!"

"Happy Birthday, Your Majesty!"

Lucy stole a sidelong glance and was very glad indeed to see that her brother was indeed smiling, and that the momentary sorrow had stolen (or been banished) from his eyes.

Almost immediately, after the storm of welcoming cries had passed and toasts had been given, each of the Royal siblings was asked to dance by various partners. Lucy, as always, threw herself onto the floor with all her enthusiasm, which her partner, a handsome knight from the Islands, found infectious, and the two of them made vigorous progress across the floor. Susan was a swan on the dance floor, her beauty radiant and her movements clean and graceful. Even Edmund, solemn and awkward as he could sometimes be, cut an elegant figure as he guided his partner through the mass of dancing couples.

Peter's first partner, a pretty girl from Archenland, a light of worship almost idolatrous in her eyes, plied him with questions of his latest venture into the Northern wastes, and he found himself tolerably well amused (much more so than he had expected) in answering her questions as the two of them danced.

The succession of partners, though, with the same questions and the same comments, broken only by breaks to eat a few mouthfuls and take a glass of wine, grew wearisome, and Peter's oppressed spirits were soon almost entirely overcome. Excusing himself at the end of the dance, he practically fled up the stairs back towards the balcony, praying that his inexplicable behavior had gone unnoticed.

The balcony was now open to whoever wished to use it, but Peter hoped that it would be empty enough to provide some sort of balm to his troubled mind. Thank the Lion, when he reached it, there was only a single woman there, sitting at the table he and his siblings had abandoned, gazing out towards the ocean.

Peter's sudden arrival seemed to jerk this lady out of her thoughts, and she stood and curtseyed hastily.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. If my presence disturbs you, I will leave immediately."

"Of course not," he reassured her, "I was just searching for some peace. Please, do not trouble yourself."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," she said, curtseying again and reseating herself, stealing anxious looks at him from beneath her eyelashes.

Peter ran through his memory, trying to see if he could figure out who she was, for her face was unknown to him. She was not a lady of Archenland, nor yet a noblewoman of the Islands, and among those of consequence in Narnia, he could not recall seeing her before.

She sat quietly, hands folded, moving only occasionally to take a few sips from her glass of wine on the table, and her demeanor was peaceful, eyes alight with calm pleasure as she watched the waves break on the jagged rocks of the bay. Wrapped in a heavy fur pelisse, she seemed not to feel the cold at all.

Somehow, her presence was enough to make Peter feel a bit less lonely. With the sounds of revelry beating up noisily from the hall behind them, it was enough to make a person alone feel an exile. As it was, the two of them were an island of blessed calm, and Peter found himself wanting to know more of this woman.

"Your name, Lady? I have thought, but I fear I cannot remember your face. If we have been introduced, I beg your pardon."

"Nay, my King," she said, large brown eyes earnest in her pale face, as if wanting to prevent his anxiety on her behalf, "we have never met. I am the youngest daughter of merchant Elessan of Beruna, Irene by name. Until four months ago, I was not well enough to venture into court, and thus have never been presented to you."

"You were unwell?"

She nodded, matter-of-factly. "Unwell all my life. When I was born there was a paralysis on my legs that might have caused me to be bedridden all my life. I have been blessed, though. My father was able to procure me the care of very able doctors, though walking and dancing is still very strenuous to me. So I must take care not to tire myself out."

"So you seek refuge here?"

"Yes. I am not used to all this noise, either…my childhood was a quiet one, and I thought no one would want to use this balcony as the night is rather cold."

Peter nodded, drawing a chair from the table and sitting down himself. The night was rather cold, certainly…even he felt it, though it felt as though he had spent half his life in the North, battling the giants. For another few minutes, the two sat in silence.

"If it is not too bold of me to ask, Your Highness, why do you seek refuge here?" There was a delicate blush discernable on the young woman's features, and Peter chuckled.

"I confess that the noise and good spirits of those below somewhat oppress me tonight."

Again, a look from those painfully earnest eyes. "Your Majesty is in poor spirits?"

"I confess I am."

There was a pause as Irene struggled to muster the courage to ask her question.

"Your Majesty must forgive me. I am unpracticed in the ways of court, so if my question is inappropriate, I beg you to pardon me. Would it be too bold of me to inquire as to the reason?"

Peter felt the tension between his shoulder blades relax as he laughed heartily. "Lady Irene Elessan, I am a soldier. I know that you wish me all respect, so you may simply call me Peter, and I shall call you Irene."

Irene's face burned. "No, my Lord, that cannot be! I would not take such a liberty with you for the world. I should be honored that you use my name, but please allow me at least to address you with some amount of respect."

He sighed. "Very well. So, Irene, you ask why I am troubled. I am not certain it would help to explain the reason."

"Sometimes it does. Your Majesty has siblings in whom to confide his troubles, but mine were often absent, and when they were in the house, they did not care to make me their playfellow. I had a faithful nurse, though, who listened to my fears and gave me advice."

Peter knew it would make her uncomfortable, but he could not help teasing her gently by saying, "And you would fancy yourself my nursemaid?"

This time, however, she seemed to realize that he was joking. "Who better to offer herself to such a position than an unknown, half-lame woman?"

"At least you could not spread the shame of my weakness very far."

Irene giggled as she replied, "Wicked, Your Majesty, wicked, to take advantage of _my_ weakness to such an extent!"

It was such a relief to laugh again.

"As far as I am concerned, Nurse, you give your medicine exactly to fit the illness. The cure for heaviness of spirit is levity, and I will gladly take your dose."

Irene smiled and lowered her eyes. "I am glad to be of service, my Lord."

Silence reined again, and as the wind freshened, Irene drew her pelisse closer around her shoulders. Peter proposed returning to the hall, where it was warmer, but she would have none of it.

"It is not often, recently, that I can find such quiet. Since I have become well enough to pay calls to the neighbors and attend ceremonies and dances, I have had little time to myself."

"Are you not afraid of catching cold?"

"No. Besides my legs, little has been wrong with my health, and I have often sat out in colder weather than this. I even traveled to the mountains, once, to Omelan, to try the sulfur springs at the base of them. It was far colder there."

"I am familiar with Omelan. I wonder that your father took you to such a troubled place; it is right on the border of the wastes."

"It was an exercise in desperation, Your Majesty. That was the last cure the doctors could recommend. However, after six months spent in those springs, my legs were far stronger, so desperation worked well, that time."

"That is well, at least."

"I saw you there, once."

"Indeed?"

"Yes. Your army was passing through, and I was being readied for a trip to the springs. Sitting in my chair outside the door, I saw you riding past with your generals, behind the division of centaurs. It was snowing, and I remember thinking that you ought to take better care of your health, for you looked tired and your hair and beard were full of snow."

"A pity it is that war allows for few concerns over the welfare of those in command."

Irene sighed. "I have seen so little of the world. I am as old as your Sister, Queen Lucy, and yet how little I know!"

Peter shook his head. "He who knows little yet may observe much. I wish the world had more to offer to such an inquisitive mind, but I am afraid that men do not vary to such an extent as you might think."

"Still, there is much to observe. I am certain that there will be more to learn than I may ever know."

"Yes. Perhaps."

The heavy curtains behind them, leading back into the great hall rustled suddenly, and Queen Lucy came onto the balcony, eyes lighting rapidly on Peter.

"Lady Irene, you have found him! Peter, you've left a good many ladies in the lurch, down below," Lucy cried, smiling a rueful smile in her recalcitrant brother's direction. "I was delegated to find you."

"Forgive me, Sister, but I have been engaged in some interesting conversation." Peter said, smiling at his seated companion, who, upon being thus thrust into their discussion, looked slightly alarmed.

"I apologize if I caused the King to be distracted from his duties," Irene said, rising immediately and curtseying to the Queen, "such was not my intention."

Lucy laughed. "If I know my Brother aright, Lady, he allowed _himself_ to be distracted, and no blame could possibly lie with you. Had you attempted to hold his interest, he would have escaped beyond both our reaches, by this point."

The three of them shared a joined laugh, after which Lucy, still chuckling, said, "If, Brother, you showed the ladies assembled below that you have a chosen companion for the evening, they would be able to pin their hopes elsewhere, for this evening, at least. Do you have an interest in dancing, Lady Irene?"

"Should not that be my question, Sister?" Peter remarked bemusedly, always amazed at his sister's ability to guess his intentions before he had clearly thought them through himself. "Do you think you have the strength, my Lady?"

"I—" she began shyly, "I think my legs have the strength, King Peter."

He found the way in which she spoke his name to be charming. Rising suddenly, he offered his arm as support as she found her way to her feet, and he noticed how she leaned on his arm as they walked down the stairs, to the murmurs of the assembled crowds below. Lucy smiled as she walked behind, glad that the worries of her brother had been dispelled, well and truly, for this one evening at least.

Lady Irene's steps were uncertain and she faltered often as the pair of them moved across the floor, but Peter's strong arms and lead gave her courage, and eventually a smile of true pleasure crossed her face and she leaned less and less on him and trusted more and more to the strength of her legs.

Laughing, the pair of them sat at a table and continued their conversations over dinner.

"Well, so was that so very terrible?"

The four siblings sat in Lucy's room, admiring the moon as it set slowly into the sea. Lucy turned from her vanity and started brushing out her long light brown hair, smiling impishly at her brother's grimace.

"No, Sister, you cannot tease him so." Susan cried, "For given all our feelings upon the affair of this evening, we none of us expected to get much pleasure out of it. Be fair."

"Fie on you, Susan, to so curtail an exercise in my wit! Though Peter may be grateful to you, _I_ most certainly am not."

"Then I shall answer for myself," Peter said, chuckling, "and say that it was not as bad as I thought it would be."

"Lady Irene is a good woman, from what little we know of her," Edmund said quietly, a smile playing around his mouth. "Perhaps we should invite her oftener to affairs at Caer Paravel."

"I am heartily in agreement with you, Brother. I could use the society of a woman closer to myself in age."

"Oh, Lucy, do my years make me tiresome to you as a companion?"

"Of course, Susan! I merely conceal my disgust at your haggard appearance out of the sisterly love I bear for you."

Susan threw a pillow at her grinning sister.

"You may invite her if you wish," Peter said quietly, "but I feel it would be unwise of any of us to form a very close attachment to her."

A silence, oppressive and thoughtful, filled the room. Even Lucy found herself unequal to make a cheerful retort, and toyed instead with the metalwork on the handle of her hairbrush.

"Returning will be difficult," Edmund finally broke the silence, "but we will come back, at least. We have that promise."

"But are we to live our lives in constant repining for this life?" Susan said, gesturing aimlessly around her.

"That would be the death of us all." Lucy murmured, though she would usually never speak such grim words.

"It is just that this life is so familiar to us all…when we return, though, that life will become familiar again." Peter declared firmly.

"It will seem strange to be so young, after so many years of independence." Edmund said. "I think I will miss it."

"And yet, we'll have Mother and Father back, and our old home." Lucy replied, brightening slightly.

"If Father survives the war."

Another silence.

"Let us make each other a promise," Lucy said, rising from her chair to kneel in front of her siblings. "We have been given this life, and that is a blessing. We have been given knowledge of this place, and these people, but like all things, they too are to pass away. This is no worse than death to one life, to be reborn in another. Aslan guides us and _will_ care for us, no matter what world we are in."

"You speak truth, Sister. What promise shall we make?"

"Never to regret or resent having been given this life," Lucy said, brown eyes serious and earnest. "We will live here until it is time to leave. And then…we will live there."

Peter set one hand on top of Lucy's closed fist and said, "I so promise."

Susan knelt and embraced her sister. "So do I."

"And I."

"For no matter what, we have each other. And we have Aslan."

 


	8. The River, The Forest, The Sea

The cool spring wind blew off the sea and brought the sharp scent of saltwater in through Susan’s open windows. She shivered lightly and drew her silk robe tighter around her shoulders, but didn’t rise to pull the drapes or close the windows. The smell was so fresh, so strengthening, that she felt her will to live the day rising with each breath she took. She took another sip of tea to take the edge off the chill, thanking her maid when she stepped forward to top off the delicate porcelain cup.

 

With a flourish that left a careless blot of ink on her finger, Susan signed the last letter of the morning and folded it. Her purple wax was already melted in the small pot above the brass candlestick, and she gently dabbed three dollops of it across the seam of each letter. Her seal—a capital letter S behind a stag’s head—pressed its mark cleanly into each blob of wax. After a moment, when the wax set, Susan’s maid gathered the letters and took them to be delivered.

 

Left alone with her thoughts, Susan stood and stepped out onto the balcony, shivering in earnest now that she was in the open air. But the day was too glorious to deny in any way. Already mid-morning, the sun was drawing higher over the sea, spreading its glittering light like diamonds on the crest of every single wave. On the shore, Susan could see a cadre of mermaids relaxing in the warm air and cool sand, combing their long hair and polishing their shimmering tails. The pinks, greens, and blues of their scales shone like jewels against the golden land.

 

Once they caught sight of her, a slim, pale figure robed in red with her long black hair falling in waving tousles all about her, they raised a cheer, putting coral flutes and shell drums to work in singing her good morning. She waved in reply, sipping her tea and enjoying the wavering notes of mer-song.

 

If she had her way, she might spend the long day like this, lying on her chaise, staring over the endless ocean, eating the earliest fruits of spring. Already the first crop of melons had been harvested from the castle’s hotbeds, and a few hardy little tart crab apples were being stewed into jelly. Susan believed that everyone was entitled to a day of leisure now and again, and the pressures of ruling Narnia and balancing her interests with the surrounding kingdoms and nations would have been stressful enough for anyone.

 

However, she reflected with a sigh, today was not a day for idle enjoyment. Perhaps there would be an hour’s time that evening to watch the moon rise with her siblings on their stargazing balcony, but for now, she had a list of errands nearly as long as her arm. So she drained her teacup, blew kisses of gratitude down to her impromptu minstrels, and went back inside.

 

Her maid had returned from handing the letters off to the talking ponies who ran the letters between each village and hamlet in the country. Susan chose a hardy linen walking dress for the day, in dark green with golden laces, and held her hair out of the way while her handmaid laced her up. She stared at her reflection while her hair was being combed, wondering why the dark green looked so familiar and made her feel so...homesick. She could not remember wearing this dress in a poor mood, or while far from home, but there was no mistaking her mood.

 

Suddenly, like a fish swimming through the dark layers of the ocean towards the turquoise light above, she remembered. Her first, her very first Narnian dress, had looked almost exactly like this.

 

The memory shocked her into stillness. How long had it been since she had thought of those early days? And, more importantly, how long had it been since she had thought of…the home that once she knew?

 

Lost in thought as she was, the two quick knocks on the door made her start. “Who is it?”

 

“Your lovely, long-suffering Brother, who is here to tell you that if you continue to tarry, we will be behind in all our tasks today.”

 

“Oh, Ed,” she breathed, smoothing the wings of her hair over her ears. Her maid finished the complicated knot at the back of her head with flying fingers, and stepped back. Susan jerked open the door to face her younger brother. True to his word, he was smiling, though tightly, and his crossed arms kept his fingers from tapping as he waited for her. “I apologize. I had no intention of being so behindhand today. But I had to reply to the governor’s invitation to the Beruna Ball, send my weekly missive to Aravis, _and_ draft Lady Landolin’s response to Lord Mavia’s _billet-doux_.”

 

Edmund laughed, slinging an arm around Susan’s shoulders as they walked down the corridor. “The last, at least, is a self-imposed burden. Simply because Landolin is a very sweet girl who is very much in love—and also unfortunately without epistolary talent—does not mean that you must take over her correspondence with Mavia.” They trotted arm in arm down the stairs to where a small group of their court was waiting to depart. “Also, it is a self-defeating task.”

 

“I know, Brother dear,” she groaned. Lucy and Peter had tried to convince her of as much before. “One of these days, though all should run smoothly in their courtship, Mavia will realize that his darling wife cannot spell “darling” without being prompted in at least three places. But I cannot help it!” she cried, shaking her head at Edmund’s grin, “She _is_ a sweet girl, and Mavia would be lucky to have her. And if they do marry, he can hire a secretary to draft all her necessary correspondence.”

 

“Well, I give up trying to persuade you, but I will not accept that letter as an important enough piece of business to delay our departure.”

 

“Very well,” she sighed, “I will buy a peppermint pasty for everybody I have inconvenienced this morning. Now,” they were outside and she let the centaur honor guard help her onto her horse, “will that do?”

 

“You are diabolical, Sister,” Edmund swung onto his horse with ease, waiting while Susan arranged her voluminous skirt over the sidesaddle. It might be more ladylike to ride this way, she reflected, but sometimes she did envy her brothers and sister riding astride. “You know my feelings about peppermint. I suppose I shall forgive you.”

 

“The model of benevolence,” Susan spurred her horse and trotted ahead of him. “I shall not mention to our other Brother,” she called over her shoulder, “your easy willingness to accept a bribe!”

 

She squealed like a child as Edmund galloped after her, and laughed as he attempted to snatch the dancing laces of her sleeves. Together they set off at a run, chasing each other, jumping streams and fences all the way to Beruna.

 

At the town, they separated; Edmund to see the construction effort over by the river, where an embankment meant to enclose a fishpond was underway, and Susan to look in on the village school. Susan usually went once a week to hear each class read its lessons. The children were adorable, and their expressions of awed delight over their Queen sitting on a stool and hearing them conjugate verbs or read a poem always cheered Susan up.

 

Recently, however, Susan had been going to the village school every day, when her other duties permitted it. Even her siblings had started to remark on it, smiling somewhat sadly when she ordered her horse saddled in the mornings. Susan could hardly explain why she felt the need to go…all she knew was that she had to.

 

The teacher, a lovely young woman with laughing green eyes and a permanent small smile (Landolin’s younger sister, as a matter of fact) ordered the school to its feet at Susan entered. The children needed no encouragement; from the oldest faun to the youngest dwarf, each one smiled and wished her a “good morning”.

 

“Good morning, boys and girls,” she replied. “First form, please rise.”

 

~*~

 

Susan finished passing out the treats she’d brought to the school, and was herded out the door by the children rushing home for lunch. She waved each one of them goodbye, laughing as a second form girl dipped her a wobbling curtsey as she went down the path.

 

“Sister! Over here!”

 

Susan waved to Edmund as she followed the winding path towards the river, where he and a platoon of beavers, minks, weasels, and men stood staring at the interwoven embankment. Though the water was muddy from the passage of many feet and flippers, Susan could see a few fish swimming about in the new-made pool.

 

“See how well this works?” Edmund, up to his waist in the water, demonstrated the gate that would rise smoothly to lure fish in, and be closed quickly to capture them. “Small fish have no chance of escaping, thanks to our ingenious weavers here,” the water creatures bowed at this acknowledgement of their talents, “and can grow until large enough to be eaten. And the whole catch can be taken at once if need be; the base of the pool is lined with a net.”

 

“Truly ingenious,” Susan said, nodding. “This will save effort for everyone and ensure that all children have access to a fresh source of meat. All the villages along the river should have one.”

 

“We have already discussed building them, your Majesty,” a lithe female Mink said, “and now that we understand the design, we can begin to construct them as early as tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you, friend Mink,” Susan replied, nodding deeply to the creature who rolled over in the water in embarrassed delight. “I see that my Brother has no need of my counsel; he receives plenty among such good animals as yourselves.”

 

“We wouldn’t let the King go wrong, Majesty,” their old friend Mr. Beaver, now a bit white around the muzzle, said, slapping Edmund hard on the shoulder. “You can always count on us.”

 

Edmund, a bit flushed at being addressed like his once more wayward younger self, heaved out of the water and muttered, “Thank Aslan I need little help now in that regard. But I do thank all of you,” he stood and spoke aloud to the animals floating in the river below, “for your continued and unstinting effort and care in all matters regarding our Narnia. The kingdom would never be the same without such a spirit of selfless loving-care.”

 

“Amen to that!” Beaver slapped his prodigious tail on the water and Susan laughed as the spray wet her skirt, “Beg pardon, your Majesty. But such words deserve applause.”

 

“Indeed they do, old friend,” Susan waved off his apology. “You need no pardon from me. Indeed, my Brother and I would love to remain and share in this great triumph, and plan further projects up the river, but alas, our time is not our own today. Ed,” she touched her brother’s elbow, “you are coming with me to the hospital at Attewater?”

 

“I am,” he agreed, “But in order that our good friends do not feel the loss of our company,” he gestured to the wagon that had accompanied them from Cair Paravel, “we have brought the supplies for a feast to liven the whole town! The greenest of river plants for our builders,” the minks, otters, and other beavers let out a cheer, “and wine, bread, and venison for the townsfolk.”

 

Beruna raised a hearty “hip, hip!” to the King and Queen as they resumed their saddles and headed downstream towards the coast. Long after the voices of the villagers had faded from Susan’s ears, she was still smiling.

 

The road out of Beruna, though well-traveled on a market day, was quiet and almost abandoned that afternoon. The loamy soil absorbed the sounds of the horses hooves, and save for their occasional whickers, flicking tails, and deepening breaths as the road rose and fell, Susan could hear every sign of life in the woods around them. Wild rabbits and pheasants fled from the bushes as they passed, while their speaking cousins paused to bow to her and Edmund or exchange quick pleasantries with their horses.

 

Gentle breezes flitted between the trees, setting the dryads’ long hair and fingers dancing. Their snatches of song and slow, deep words mingled with the wind and turned the atmosphere of the forest into something like a concert; though one much more holy. The sounds made a tapestry of life, of magic, of love, and Susan felt her heart swelling and her desire to speak her mind rising like a soaring bird within her.

 

“It is such a lovely day,” she remarked, “Should we not send the horses ahead so we might walk and enjoy it?”

 

“I am willing,” Edmund agreed, so quickly that Susan knew his desire to talk rivaled her own. “Philip, would you and Lorelai go on ahead? We promise to follow soon, and no harm will come to us on the road.”

 

Philip stopped in his tracks, albeit unwillingly. “Your Majesties have only to command, but…I would stay with you.”

 

“It is a mere two miles to Attewater, and you had no chance to refresh yourself before we left,” Edmund said, dismounting and moving to help Susan do the same. “I had you hauling reeds and logs like a common draft horse. Go to the town; let them know we are soon to arrive and make sure you and Lorelai are well fed and rested for our journey back.”

 

“Would that suit you, Lorelai?” Susan rested one gloved hand on her mount’s forehead, brushing the smooth fetlock out of the way. The horse’s earnest brown eyes rolled; Lorelai was the youngest foal of Philip and his wife, and still a bit nervous about being the Queen’s mount.

 

“Are you certain, your Majesty?” she whickered, hind hoof stamping. “I am not tired; I rested in the stables of Beruna. I could carry King Edmund as well, if he does not wish to walk.”

 

“Fie!” Susan scoffed, “A fine strapping man like my Brother, overworking a li—” she bit off the word in consideration of the horse’s feelings, “—any horse, when we both want some exercise. Go ahead. You will have some time to run along the beach, if you like.”

 

Lorelai flicked her tail and bowed. Susan had made a sure push at her tastes with that suggestion. Philip nosed his foal away and the two of them trotted down the path, breaking into a flying gallop when Philip suggested a race. Susan watched them go, the strained sensation of loving sorrow in her heart growing almost painful. She blinked away the small tears that bloomed at the corner of her eye, and sighed.

 

“How are we going to let go, Sue?”

 

She turned and smiled fondly, taking her younger brother’s hand in hers. “I thought to say that,” she said, drawing his arm under hers as they walked along the path under the arching branches of the trees above them. “In fact, I had thought to say _exactly_ that. Oh Brother,” she pressed her head against his shoulder and wondered when he had become so much taller than she, “how will they get along without us?”

 

“If I learned anything this morning—to my embarrassment,” Edmund replied, squeezing her hand, “it is that perhaps Narnia does not need us as much as we thought it did.”

 

“It is just that I do not understand,” now that she had begun, it felt so good to unburden herself to a sympathetic listener, “Aslan made us to be Kings and Queens here. The beavers told us that Narnia was only right when sons of Adam and daughters of Eve were the rulers. And yet, we have seen no sign that Aslan intends to replace us with anyone! Are we to assume then that he is ready to leave Narnia to the animals? Or that others will come in our stead?”

 

“Perhaps the animals ruling would not be to Narnia’s harm,” Edmund said, “I would not fear for its welfare were one of the centaurs King, or one of the dryads Queen. They are creatures of foresight and wisdom even beyond our own, and have both knowledge and trust in Aslan.”

 

“Oh, Ed,” she sighed, almost laughing, “you are so wise and just. Perhaps I do not wish to believe that our beloved Narnia would be the same without us.”

 

“And perhaps I am working so hard to convince myself that it will be because I am frightened and saddened to leave it,” he replied, softly. “Just like you.”

 

They walked in silence, enjoying the scents and sounds of the forest about them.

 

“It does not seem right that He should do this,” Susan did not have to ask which “he” Edmund meant. “Not that I thought we would live our whole lives here,” the note of disappointment in his voice told her that Edmund felt quite opposite to his words, “still…we have done so much, and still so much remains…”

 

“Maybe there is less than you think,” Susan said, the thought unfolding slowly in her mind as she spoke, “When you consider…after the war in Archenland with the Calormen army, we have had no external threats. After Lord Arnaut’s treachery with Lucy, we have known that all the other nobles who pay tribute to us are loyal. And after several domestic difficulties, we know that our subjects are intelligent, committed creatures who are as loyal to each other as they ever could be to us. Maybe we have brought Narnia to the very place it needs to be.”

“ _Now_ who is being wise and just?” he teased. “Though I know not why it should hurt to admit it, but you are likely right. About Narnia’s state and Aslan’s intentions both.”

 

“But it does hurt,” Susan pressed a kiss to her brother’s arm, meeting his smile as he looked down on her. “We all like to feel needed. But perhaps Aslan’s guidance and advice have made us redundant.”

 

“Perhaps,” he laughed, “Although—and this might be blasphemous to say—Aslan might not have considered the idea that _we_ might still need Narnia, even if it does not need us.”

 

The two miles had run smoothly behind them, and Susan felt better for having spoken, though neither of them had reached a comfortable conclusion. Leaving Narnia _would_ hurt, and even the comfort of knowing Narnia would be all right without them would be nothing but a very cold comfort indeed.

 

“Lucy was right, was she not?” Edmund said, stopping as the road opened up on the view of the ocean below them. At the edge of the forest, the view opened up the wide reach of the sea and the small collection of houses clustered on the shore. Susan stepped away from her brother, stretching her arms and breathing deep. The sharp, salty scent was wild, bracing. A moment before, Susan had felt heavy, sad…now she felt like she could fly.

 

“We enjoy what Aslan gives us today.”

 

“And pray for His help for whatever comes tomorrow.”


End file.
